Vomica Domintor
by AlwaysSS
Summary: Snape has been trying his best to drive her to madness all term, but when Hermione manages to help him with a potion, things might just get interesting. AU after book 5, OOCness, SS/HG, and much shenanigans
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I originally wrote this story many, many moons ago. 2007 or so. I published it and then took it down to revamp it. Years passed by and it sat unfinished as real life intervened. For whatever reason, I got the urge to rewrite/finish it. The original was approximately 65k words; this version topped out at nearly 250k! For anyone who may have read the original, I hope you enjoy the changes.

This story is officially AU after Order of the Phoenix. Voldemort is dead but nothing went down as it did in canon. Snape, Dumbledore, Fred, and Remus are all still alive (your welcome!) What you need to know about the war, you will be told as the story progresses.

Thanks to my polishing beta: TheUltimateBibliophile

* * *

 **CHAPTER ONE**

"Professor?" Hermione asked quietly, peering around the door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. It was early evening and the stars were just starting to make an appearance beyond the open windows across the room.

"Hermione?" came the curious, masculine reply a moment before Remus Lupin stepped out from behind a large cabinet, a friendly grin plastered across his face. "Come in! And haven't I told you a hundred times that you don't have to call me Professor unless we're in class?"

The Head Girl smiled apologetically as she entered the room and shut the door. "At least. Sorry, Remus."

At some point, during the war and the accompanying chaos the year before, a Lycanthropy cure was finally developed and Remus had been one of the first werewolves to be rehabilitated. Once Voldemort was truly dead and his vindictive curse on the position subsequently void, one of Dumbledore's most notable acts upon reopening the school was to reinstate Lupin as the Defense professor. It was nice to have a competent teacher again, especially for their N.E.W.T. year, and Hermione's relationship with the wizard, which had been one of mutual respect as fellow Order members over the past two years, had bloomed into a comfortable friendship since his return to the castle.

"So, to what do I owe the honor this evening?" he asked, disappearing between the wooden doors of the cupboard again.

Hermione sighed wearily and sat down on top of a nearby desk. "I don't know. It's just been a long day. Thought I'd stop in for a friendly chat before my detention starts."

Remus poked his head out and frowned. "You have another detention tonight?"

She nodded.

"With Severus?"

She nodded again.

"Merlin, how many has that been since the start of term?" he asked as he put away the last of the Dark objects he'd brought in to show his classes. It was barely November, yet she had already served more detentions with Snape than he had had during his entire seven years as a student.

"I lost count."

Remus shook his head in disbelief. "What's it for this time?"

"I sort of talked back to him in class," the curly-haired witch muttered, diverting her eyes to the black mary-janes swinging in front of her. Even though Lupin was more of a friend than an authority figure, she knew he wouldn't condone the disrespect of any of his colleagues, even if it was the cantankerous Potions Master.

"Hermione..."

Her head darted back up and her shoulders tensed into a more defensive stance. "I know, Remus, I know. But I swear that man can be so infuriating sometimes! I honestly think he's doing it on purpose — like he's trying to make me mad enough to tell him off, just so he can give me detention!"

The former werewolf frowned again as he placed several protective wards over the cabinet. "I don't think Severus would do that. He's sacrificing his own free time for these detentions, after all."

"Hmph. He's also getting all of his paperwork done, too," Hermione grumbled bitterly. It wasn't that she minded helping Snape with his essays or any of the other tasks he had assigned her, per se; she just resented the snarky wizard's tactics.

Lupin was quiet for a moment as he took a seat behind his desk, pondering his coworker's recent conduct. "So, what was the disagreement about this time?"

"He told me that my potion was the wrong color. The text said that in the final stage, it was supposed to turn an iridescent cerulean — which it did — but Professor Snape insisted that it was cyan. I knew it was right. He was convinced that it was wrong and refused to test it for accuracy." She huffed irritably. "The debate got rather intense after that, of course, and ended with me vanishing the potion out of frustration, taking a T for the day's assignment, and receiving yet another detention."

Remus' brow furrowed as he listened to the witch. Almost all of her detentions had been the result of the same sort of dispute in which neither of them, hard-headed as they both were, would concede that they were wrong. It'd actually be somewhat humorous if the girl's disciplinary record wasn't being tarnished in the process. "Hermione, Severus is the teacher and a Potions master, if he said that the potion was incorrect, then—"

The Head Girl slammed her hand down on the table, effectively cutting off the older wizard's admonishment. "It wasn't wrong!" she cried indignantly. "That potion was perfect! Ask anyone that was in the room. It was the exact shade that the book described and he knew it! Snape is an unmitigated arse and for some reason, he's decided to concentrate that sizable talent on me this year!"

Amusement glinted in Lupin's warm hazel eyes and he held up his hands in mock surrender. "Calm down, love. I'm on your side, remember?"

Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment and her shoulders slumped. She hadn't meant to say all that but when she got worked up, things occasionally flew out of her mouth unbidden. "I'm sorry, Remus. This whole situation is just driving me crazy. It seems like every time I turn around, Professor Snape's berating me for something ridiculous." She growled in exasperation. "He's bloody lucky I haven't hexed him yet."

"Yes, quite lucky," Remus agreed with a chuckle. The Muggle-born knew a whole litany of curses — several of which he had taught her himself — and had deadly accurate aim. "Do you want me to talk to Severus about it?"

Hermione shook her head, knowing her answer to that question automatically — it was one she had been contemplating for a while now. "I refuse to give that overgrown bat the satisfaction of seeing me cower. If he wants to play this absurd game, then he's going to find that I'm not an opponent to be underestimated."

He grinned, knowing full well how stubborn the little witch could be. He had always admired her determination to tackle her own problems through whatever means proved necessary — a trait that had played a large part in the downfall of Voldemort. She had faced down Death Eaters more than twice her size and stood proudly beside her best friend as he confronted and then defeated the darkest wizard in history. This girl was not one to be easily intimidated. "Suit yourself. Just remember, I'm here for you if you change your mind."

"Thanks, I will," she replied with an appreciative smile. "For now, it's enough that you listen to my whining. Harry and Ron just get mad whenever I start to complain."

Suddenly, the tower clock rang out, reverberating through the castle walls and causing Hermione to jump up from the desk like she had been scorched by invisible Fiendfyre. "Oh, bugger! I'm gonna be late!" She ran out the door at top speed without even saying goodbye. It'd mean another detention if she didn't make it to the Potions classroom before the clock finished its hourly serenade.

The former Marauder shook his head as he watched her scamper away. He didn't know what was going on with the Potions professor, but he doubted Snape would live through the year if he kept antagonizing the woman like this. Remus was quite fond of Hermione and hated to see her being tormented, but his own relationship with his old schoolmate was strained at the best of times, and he really didn't fancy confronting the humorless man about a situation of this delicacy.

Besides, punishment within the classroom was left to the sole discretion of the teacher and no one, save the Headmaster, had the right to question another teacher's practices. So unless he went to Albus with the problem, Remus really had no recourse and he didn't want to take that step unless the witch specifically asked him to.

He sighed wearily and flicked his wand to douse the lamps before climbing the steps to his office and private quarters. There had to be a reasonable explanation for the ex-Death Eater's odd behavior. It was no secret that Snape took pleasure from tormenting his less-than-studious pupils but the Head Girl had never fallen into that category. But without further information, Remus was at a loss and decided that, for the time being at least, the best course of action would be to let things play out. Surely even Snape's snarky obstinacy couldn't hold out indefinitely.

* * *

Sprinting the entire way from the third floor, Hermione miraculously made it to the dungeons just as the final chime sounded. She was red-faced, sweaty, and panting heavily when she reached the Potions classroom, but she was triumphantly on time. Just as her fingers closed around the metal knob, though, the door swung open on its own, jerking her forward and directly into the path of a rather surprised Draco Malfoy.

"What the hell are you doing down here, Granger?" he asked, his lip curling as he took in the witch's disheveled state.

Hermione scowled at the Head Boy and took a step backwards. "Not that it's any of your business, Malfoy, but I have detention."

The Slytherin smirked. "Oh, that's right. I'd nearly forgotten about today's theatrics." He sidestepped her and strode out into the corridor before gesturing lazily towards the door. "He's all yours, then."

She scowled again at the retreating blond before entering the classroom. Leave it to bloody Malfoy to be in the way when she was already in a hurry. She sighed and quietly shut the door, knowing exactly what Snape's comment was going to be even before he had acknowledged her presence.

"You're late, Miss Granger."

Hermione dropped her head in concession. She knew there was no point in arguing with the rankling wizard. He wouldn't listen anyway. "Yes, sir."

"You will return here tomorrow night. On time."

"Yes, sir."

The professor's dark eyes narrowed on her for a moment, as if trying to goad her into saying more and thus, garnering a third detention. She bit her tongue until he lowered his head and started to read the parchment in front of him then walked to his desk and picked up a stack of essays from the corner. This had become their _normal_ routine. Her first few detentions had been spent scrubbing cauldrons and preparing less-than-appealing potion ingredients, but the Potions Master had apparently realized that those menial chores were a waste of her intellect and had since been giving her first- through fourth-year essays to grade.

In reality, she was only slightly grateful for the change. It was obvious that the majority of the younger students didn't even attempt to string coherent sentences together half the time. It had only taken a few nights of slashing mark after red mark across the scrolls of parchment before she had begun to understand Snape's usual irritability. She'd be bitter and thoroughly unpleasant too if she'd been subjected to that level of idiocy for nearly twenty years.

Oddly enough, a small part of Hermione somewhat enjoyed the quiet hours she had been spending in the dungeons as of late. The dark-haired wizard barely ever talked to her and outside the asinine assignments she had been charged with, the solitude was almost nice — better, at least, than trying to accomplish anything worthwhile amidst the nightly commotion in the Gryffindor common room. And while grading essays wasn't exactly the N.E.W.T. revision that she would have liked to be spending her free time on, it did require her to use knowledge that had been more or less dormant since she had written the same assignments herself.

The discussions — glorified shouting matches, really — that very rarely sprouted up between her and the older Slytherin, usually stemming from whatever had landed her there that night, also added an enjoyable aspect to what anyone else would've considered a miserable experience. She had always despised being told that she was wrong when she knew that she wasn't. Snape had seemed to recognize this early on in her school career and had made sure to use it against her whenever possible. She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that most of the things he had been criticizing her for lately were erroneous, but without knowing why he was picking on her in this fashion, she was hard-pressed to retaliate — he was still an authority figure, after all. But when he allowed her to debate her position, she felt like it gave her a chance to redeem at least some of her self-respect, and he had yet to begrudge her that small victory.

Unfortunately, those chances had been few and far between seeing how she still, after all the weeks in his presence, hadn't been able to summon the courage to instigate such a debate herself. Instead, the Head Girl cowardly chose to follow his cue, which, most nights, left her silent and obedient. She never once noticed the wizard's frequent contemplative glances in her direction, though if she had, she wouldn't have had a clue what to make of them anyway.

Later that night, Hermione was reading a third-year paper on the properties of Bubotuber pus when she was startled by the room's other inhabitant's silky voice cutting through the silence.

"Miss Granger, why is it that certain students insist on writing far longer essays than are assigned?"

Even though the wizard _usually_ ignored her, he was prone to caustic tirades on the stupidity of her fellow schoolmates and, since she had come to acknowledge the truth behind such observations firsthand, she usually found his sarcastic comments amusing. Of course, Gods forbid, she ever let Snape know that. He'd be more likely to hex her than permit her to giggle in his immediate proximity.

Figuring she couldn't just ignore him, Hermione looked up at the paper he was currently grading and recognized her own cramped writing. Bugger. It was apparently going to be one of _those_ nights. Her cheeks flushed as she dropped her gaze back to her own table. "Perhaps they simply wish to be thorough, sir."

"Or perhaps," he replied, a taunting smirk weighing down each syllable, "they wish to be show-offs."

The witch's brown eyes narrowed on the parchment in front of her, but she forced her tone to remain polite. This was just one of the more taxing aspects of his little game. "I doubt that was their intention, _sir_."

He didn't immediately respond, and after a moment, she went back to trying to decipher the Hufflepuff's smudged handwriting through the copious red corrections she had already made. It was several minutes before he spoke again.

"You seem to have misread your source."

She looked up questioningly, unable to ignore what was sure to be more unwarranted criticism.

Snape, apparently assured that he had her full attention, kept his eyes down as he spoke. "You have a few wrong dates here and one or two misspelled names." He glanced up at her with his usual expressionless mask. "Tsk, tsk, getting sloppy in your last year. _What a pity_."

Anger flashed in her eyes as Hermione clenched her fist in her lap. She had read that essay five times before handing it in and was positive that there weren't any errors. He stared at her for several moments, wordlessly daring her to argue, she knew, and it took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to respond to his goading.

The rest of her detention was spent seething in silent fury, the Bubotuber essays forgotten in her irritation. When the clock chimes released her, she practically ran from the room, not even bidding the professor a good night. In her haste, she also missed the look of satisfaction on his harshly lined face.

By the time she had made it back to the Gryffindor common room, Hermione had calmed down considerably. This was all part of their routine. Snape would infuriate her time and time again, but it never lasted long. Once she was able to get away from the daunting man and breathe, her anger would dissipate. Perhaps it was the knowledge of what he had endured as a spy or had suffered through as a teacher all these years, or maybe she had simply built up a tolerance to his sarcasm. She shook her head as she crawled through the portrait hole. _That_ was a scary thought.

As usual, her best friends were waiting up for her. Harry and Ginny were doing homework on opposite ends of the sofa by the fireplace, and Ron was camped out on the floor, polishing the racing broom that the twins had bought him at the beginning of the school year in hopes that it would help the Gryffindor team defend their title. They all looked up when they heard her come in and three pairs of sympathetic eyes followed her to the couch where the Head Girl promptly plopped down, mentally exhausted.

"How did it go tonight?" Harry asked, rolling up the essay he had just completed for Remus' class.

She shrugged. "It was fine. Quiet." She had stopped telling them the entire truth weeks ago. Harry and Ron still had their issues with Snape, despite all the man's help during the war, and it was just easier for all involved if she kept the details of her detentions to herself.

"More essays?" Ginny asked as she flipped through her History of Magic textbook in search of the dates of some ancient war or another.

Hermione nodded and the redheaded witch rolled her eyes. Ron shook his head in exasperation and went back to polishing his broom. Harry was the only one who didn't appear satisfied, which, unfortunately, wasn't the least bit surprising.

"What's Snape up to?" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Hermione sighed. They had had this conversation countless times already and it was starting to grate on her nerves. She loved the raven-haired wizard more than just about anyone she knew, but his obsessiveness drove her mad sometimes. After Voldemort had been defeated, she had hoped that Harry would be able to calm down and enjoy the childhood he had missed out on — that they had _all_ missed out on — but in the absence of an evil Dark Lord to slay, the hero had turned his focus on lesser adversaries, namely Snape, Malfoy, and the few Slytherin seventh-years that had returned to the school. It was sad, really, that he still couldn't just be the boy that he should've been.

"I don't think he's up to anything, Harry," she replied for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Have you done McGonagall's assignment yet? Let's do it together," she quickly suggested to distract him from trying to sleuth out the Potions Master's supposedly devious schemes — that was her job. Thankfully, the diversionary tactic worked like a charm and they spent the rest of the evening talking about Transfiguration.

After finishing their homework, Hermione bade her friends good night and made her way up to her private quarters at the very top of Gryffindor tower — a perk that had come with the title of Head Girl. She occasionally missed the inane, girly chatter of Lavender and Parvati, but mostly she thoroughly enjoyed the privacy of her own space. And Crookshanks thought he was the Lord of the bloody Manor, prowling the small bedroom and even smaller loo, like it was a thirty-two room mansion.

Said feline meowed when she entered the darkened room and lit the candles. He glared up at her with his large golden eyes, obviously cursing her for waking him from his seventeenth nap of the day.

"Sorry, Crooks," she mumbled, throwing her knapsack and robes on the chair and collapsing onto the bed beside the disgruntled half-Kneazle. "Don't be mad at me, okay? It's been a rotten day."

The cat, apparently feeling uncharacteristically charitable, meowed again and stretched his rather plump body out until he was curled against her chest where he promptly proceeded to lick her nose. Hermione giggled at his attempt at a peace offering and snuggled closer to his warmth. As she drifted off to sleep, still wearing her school uniform, her last hazy thought was the hope that tomorrow would be less of a disaster.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

Hermione awoke early the next morning from a rather bizarre dream. As she stretched and sat up, the details of the dream evaporated, but she could distinctly remember a deep, silky voice that made every cell in her body shiver. This wasn't the first time that this particular dark wizard, her tormentor during waking hours, had possessed her dreams, but it never failed to unsettle her. Sighing deeply, she scratched Crookshanks' head as he nestled into the warm spot she'd just vacated and headed towards the shower, reluctantly starting a new day.

Somewhat refreshed, the Head Girl joined her friends at the Gryffindor table for breakfast an hour later. They chatted about nothing in particular for a while, before Harry ruined the peaceful mood by asking her to help him that evening with the charm that Flitwick had demonstrated in class the day before.

She sighed and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Harry. I can't."

"Why not?" he asked, cutting into the stack of pancakes on his plate. "I just need help with the wand movement. I don't think I'm doing it quite right; the cushion just sort of quivers whenever I try it."

Hermione made a face. The boy was an immensely powerful wizard who had just done away with the likes of Voldemort, yet he still needed to be coached through basic Charm work. "Maybe we can practice during our free period after lunch. I have detention again tonight."

Harry frowned, but it was Ron who exclaimed, "Bloody hell!" through a mouthful of fried egg, thus ruining her already diminished appetite. "You haven't even been in the dungeons today, Hermione. How did you manage to get detention already?"

"I was late last night so I have to serve another one."

"You really need to talk to Dumbledore about him," Harry hissed, shooting a hateful glare at the staff table and its Slytherin occupant. "He's got to be up to something."

"He's just trying to see how far he can push me before I snap," she replied in an insistent tone that was reserved for these types of conversations. "Like I told Remus yesterday, this has become war and I _refuse_ to surrender. That includes going to the Headmaster."

"When you do finally crack," Ginny said with a grin, "make sure you do it in here. I wanna see the show."

The Muggle-born smirked darkly. If it did ever come to that sort of drastic conclusion, she'd make certain it was in a highly public location, both for the added embarrassment to the old bat and the additional protection on her part. He'd be far less likely to kill her with a room full of witnesses, at least she hoped so.

The younger witch's grin widened and took on a mischievous quality that was more often found on Fred or George. "In fact, I wouldn't be opposed to getting in a hex or two myself."

Hermione chuckled. "I'll be sure to give you a clear shot."

"You know," Ron interjected between the girls' giggles, knowing exactly how to make his bushy-haired best friend finally see reason. "You're gonna have a heck of a time explaining all those detentions to the schools you've been applying to, Hermione."

She sighed. "I know, Ron." Truthfully, that was the only thing about this whole situation that she couldn't shrug off. She hoped to attend one of the leading wizarding universities after leaving Hogwarts, perhaps to major in Potions, of all things, but even if her N.E.W.T. scores got her in, what were they going to think about her disciplinary records? She had spent the past six years living by the rules — unless she was thwarting evil, of course — only to have Snape demolish it with this vindictive ploy of his. Still, she wasn't willing to let the dark man win, damn it — not this time.

Her brow creased with renewed determination and she stabbed her grapefruit with a tad too much vigor. "I'll just have to deal with that when the time comes."

Ginny smirked at her friend's rather demonstrative display and wiped the splattered droplets of juice off her cheek. Both boys shook their heads in exasperation, but let the matter drop as they tucked back into their breakfast. They had learned long ago that there was no stopping the witch once she had made up her mind about something, and it was usually detrimental to one's health to even try.

* * *

Later that day, Harry and Hermione returned to the dungeons for Potions class — thankfully the last one of the week. They were the only Gryffindors to reach N.E.W.T. level and it was hardly a secret that one of them had only qualified by sheer dumb luck and extensive help from the other.

Within moments of taking their usual seats at the back of laboratory, the distinct hush that fell over the previously noisy classroom announced the professor's arrival as sure as thunder would herald an approaching storm. As he passed their table, the deep whispers of Hermione's dream the previous night rushed through her mind, causing her cheeks to flush, and she shook her head in an attempt to clear away the fuzzy memories. Unfortunately, the movement didn't go unnoticed.

"What's wrong with you?" the green-eyed boy beside her whispered.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, for talking during class," the dour man snapped as he turned to glare at the couple. Harry growled under his breath but apparently didn't feel the need to point out that class hadn't officially begun yet, no doubt out of his determination to win the House Cup in their last year.

Without missing a beat, Snape flicked his wand and sent the class' last assignment flying through the air. "These so-called essays were pathetic. If you have any hopes of getting through this year without blowing yourselves up, then some of you," he sneered at the masculine half of the back table, "will need to at least _attempt_ to learn the difference between liquid Moonstone and distilled Moondew."

Hermione caught her essay and listlessly unrolled the parchment, already expecting a poor grade based on the professor's acrid comments the night before. She was therefore quite taken aback by the spiky red words at the top of the page.

 ** _O_** _utstanding — as usual_

It was all the witch could do not to fall off her stool as she re-read the short annotation. Not only had the snarky man complimented her — sort of — but it was the first time she had ever received more than an "Exceeds Expectations" in his class. She had long since accepted the fact that Snape would never acknowledge her effort. Of course, that fact had only made her try harder over the years.

The man in question, meanwhile, covertly watched the resident know-it-all as she stared, seemingly dumbfounded, at his handwriting. He was well aware that it was the first O he had ever awarded her, but it was indisputably earned. He hadn't been able to find so much as a damn comma out of place. He had always been loath to hand out O's — even to his Slytherins — mainly because lesser grades usually ensured continual effort, but after seven years of the constant, irritating insightfulness of girl's essays, it seemed like time to give credit where credit was due. Well, that and the hope that it'd keep the little spitfire from hexing him while his back was turned.

He smirked when she looked up at him with those big brown eyes, and then carefully avoided her questioning gaze for the rest of the period.

* * *

That night, when Hermione entered the dungeon classroom for her detention, she was surprised to find a familiar redhead already seated at the table next to hers.

"Good to see that you could make it on time this evening, Miss Granger," the professor remarked snidely from behind his desk.

"Yes, sir," she replied as she kept her eyes down and retrieved her usual stack of essays. She was dying to ask him about her essay, and by extension his erratic, dubious behavior, but didn't dare. Instead, she turned her back on the older wizard to silently question why the younger one was there. Ron gave her a noncommittal shrug and winked, to which she frowned before taking her seat.

"Mr. Weasley, you'll be revising permanent records tonight," Snape announced as he levitated a long, narrow box onto the boy's desk. "Inspect each card, rewrite any that need to be replaced, and then rearrange the box alphabetically."

"Yes, _sir_ ," Ron ground out before opening the dusty box. He grimaced when he saw the amount of cards inside. Perhaps this hadn't been such a good idea, after all. He was going to be here for hours, if not days.

Falling into her practiced routine, Hermione dipped her quill into the well of blood-red ink and began grading that day's allotment of essays. After a few minutes, though, curiosity got the better of her and she cleared her throat to catch her friend's attention. "What are you doing here?" she whispered when he looked up.

The boy grinned. "I figured that you could use some company, so I picked a fight with a Slytherin fourth-year when I knew he'd—" he thrust his thumb in the dungeon bat's direction, "—be around to catch me."

Hermione smiled at the foolish wizard and shook her head, not believing his excuse for a minute. "Are you sure that you're not here to spy on Professor Snape? Did Harry tell you to come down here and keep an eye on him?"

A pink tinge rose on his freckled cheeks, the way it always did when she caught him in a lie. "Maybe a little," he admitted.

"If you two can't complete your individual tasks in silence, I'm sure that I can find something more labor-intensive to hold your attention," the Potions Master warned in a low, dangerous drawl, his gaze never leaving the essay in front of him. "I have a whole vat of fresh dragon dung that needs debriding."

The two abashed Gryffindors muttered an apology and spent the rest of the evening working quietly, neither one of them the least bit interested in becoming better acquainted with dragon droppings. After his well-received threat, Snape didn't utter another syllable to either of them.

Once the dual detention was over and they were back in the common room, Ron pulled Hermione over to one of the vacant sofas near the fire. He was acting weird, twitchy even, and she really wasn't in the mood.

"What is it, Ron?" she asked with a yawn. "I'm tired and still have homework to do."

"I know. I just wanted to show you this." He pulled something white from his pocket and held it out to her.

Hermione's brow furrowed as she peered down at the crinkled index card. Her name was printed across the top along with a single entry.

 **5/9/1991 Out of dormitory after hours - A. Filch / M. McGonagall - Assigned detention with R. Hagrid**

She looked back up at the red-haired wizard, who was nearly a foot taller than her now. "What is this? Where did you get it?"

"That's your disciplinary record. It was in the box that I had to go through tonight, all of ours were."

She sat down on the sofa and glanced at the card again. "Why did you take it?"

Ron stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers — a nervous habit he had inherited from his father. "Well, I thought it was odd. It only has that one detention from first year on it."

Hermione ran her fingers over the black ink that was still glossy like the entry had been written yesterday instead of nearly seven years ago. "That was the night Harry and I took Norbert up to the Astronomy Tower."

"I know." He pulled his right hand from his pocket and showed it to her. "I still got the scar from where the bloody beast bit me. But my point is that none of the detentions you've had this year are on there."

The lines on her forehead deepened. "Maybe Professor Snape just hasn't recorded them yet. Maybe the cards only get updated once per term or something."

Ron shook his head and sat down on the coffee table in front of her. "My card was up to date, Hermione. It already had _tonight's_ detention on it."

"Well, that doesn't make any sense." Why on earth would Snape go through all the trouble of punishing her if he wasn't going to report it? What kind of twisted, no-holds-barred game was she caught up in?

"I know, that's why I brought it to show you," Ron said. He took the card from her hands and studied it for a moment before passing it back to her. "For some reason, Snape's not recording any of the detentions he's been assigning you."

The witch looked back down at the sparse list, expecting to see it suddenly update itself, and frowned when she saw no change. "Well, I can't explain it, but I'm sure that there's a reason for it." She yawned again. "Meanwhile, I don't think we should tell Harry about it."

Ron's blue eyes widened. "Why not? This proves that Snape's up to something, Hermione," he argued, tapping the index card with his finger.

The Head Girl scowled. She was not about to let this become number seven hundred and twelve on the Boy-Who-Lived's "Reasons Why Snape's An Evil Git" list. "You know how obsessed Harry can get, Ron. I really don't feel like hearing him dissect this for the next month. He hates Snape; Snape hates him. I get it."

"But the greasy bastard's punishing you now, not Harry," he replied, thinking she had obviously missed that important point.

"Exactly. So _I_ should be the one to deal with it. Not you, and especially not Harry."

"But—"

"But nothing," Hermione said sharply, cutting off the Keeper's well-meaning but unwanted argument. "Just let me handle this. I promise, if it gets too out of hand then I'll go to Dumbledore, okay?"

Ron frowned. He didn't like the idea of keeping anything, especially something this concrete, from his best mate, but she did have a point. Harry got entirely too worked up about stuff like this. And even though he was curious why Hermione was being so calm about this — she couldn't possibly _enjoy_ spending all her time in the dungeons, right? — he knew that she was more than capable of taking care of herself. It had been a long time since the curly-haired witch had needed rescuing from mountain trolls or anything else. He sighed. "Okay, Hermione. Whatever you think is best."

She smiled, grateful that her powers of persuasion over the redhead were still potent, and then waved the disciplinary record in the air. "So how are we supposed to get this back into the file box?"

Ron swallowed thickly and stood up from the table. "Dunno. I didn't think about that."

Hermione scowled up at the lanky wizard. "So, I'm just supposed to walk up to Professor Snape and hand this back?"

His cheeks flushed again. "Sorry."

She sighed and stood up as well. "It's alright. I'll figure it out." Was she the least bit surprised that it would fall to her to clean up the boy's mess yet again? No. But her acceptance of that inevitable fact didn't make it any less irritating. She covered her long-suffering sigh with a yawn before giving her best friend a weak smile. "I'm going to bed."

"Okay, Hermione. Good night."

Her irritation faded in light of his goofy, freckle-faced grin. He had only been trying to help, after all. "Night, Ron," she called, heading for the stairs. "See you tomorrow."

When Hermione got up to her bedroom, she laid the problematic index card on her desk. She had to figure out a way of returning it undetected, but until that yet-to-be-conceived brainstorm came to pass, she decided to just hang on to it. At least it was proof that not only would she still be able to follow her future plans, but also that Snape must have an ulterior motive for his recent bout of torment and maybe, just maybe, wasn't out to destroy her sanity.

After changing into her pajamas, she curled up on the bed and wrestled a large, orange fur ball off her pillows. The cat hissed at being so rudely awoken and then proceeded to happily nuzzle itself against the girl's flannel-cloaked chest.

"There's a mystery afoot, Crooks," she whispered conspiratorially as she scratched behind his ears, "and I think I've just been handed the first clue."

The half-Kneazle meowed in response, rubbed his squashed face against her collarbone, and promptly fell back asleep.

Though Hermione's weekend unfolded much like any other — watching her best friends fly around the Quidditch Pitch, studying in the library, meals in the Great Hall, and ruckus in common room — her current predicament with the Slytherin Potions Master was never far from mind. Everything she did was tainted with thoughts of the snarky dungeon inhabitant and questions revolving around his inexplicable behavior. Much to her consternation, though, none of her contemplation got her any closer to understanding the seemingly unsolvable riddle that mocked her every waking hour.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

Unfortunately, though not unpredictably, Monday's Potions class provided the Head Girl with more fuel for speculation rather than answering any of her questions.

The day's assignment was a complex elixir used to strengthen the roots of certain magical plants and provide protection against Gnomes, Knarls, and Nogtails. In Hermione's opinion, the potion was utterly useless since there were far easier and stronger methods of preventing vegetation destruction. She had a feeling that the only reason Snape was making them brew this particular potion at all was because it was ridiculously intricate, and would therefore keep them quiet, and it involved distilled Moondew, which they had just written an essay on. The whole assignment had the telltale feel of "busy work" about it.

Still, Hermione had never been one to pass up an opportunity to hone her brewing skills, and she decided to use the exercise to try out a new preparation technique that she had read about over the summer. For about two years now, she had been subscribing to several different academic journals. In her free time, she enjoyed learning about new theories and advancements in her favorite subjects, especially when certain members of the Hogwarts staff couldn't be bothered to teach anything that wasn't written in the school's out-of-date textbooks. As far as she was concerned, Potions was definitely one of the classes that could use some innovation.

Putting her theory-based knowledge to work, the Gryffindor started to prepare her ingredients. She was neatly slicing her allotment of lemongrass and minding her own business when Snape, who had been stalking about the room in his usual intimidating manner, stopped in front of her workstation. The swirl of black fabric dangerously close to her cauldron's flame caught her eye, but she continued working until he addressed her.

"Miss Granger, are you having problems with your vision today?"

His tone was far from concerned, but the question puzzled her. She looked up cautiously. "No, sir."

The wizard crossed his arms over his chest and stared down his large hooked nose at her. "Then explain to me why you're _slicing_ that lemongrass when your text clearly states to mince it."

The silence in the dungeons took on a new dimension as every eye in the room turned to watch the show unfold. The recent animosity between the Muggle-born and the Potions Master was quickly becoming a thing of legend and the small cluster of Slytherins looked especially gleeful at the current interruption. The fact that the Gryffindor witch was considered infallible by the rest of the teachers made Snape's constant belittlement of the bushy-haired nuisance this year almost worth the torture of being in the N.E.W.T. level class. It was quite humorous to see her finally put in her place.

Harry, who was double checking his Potions book against hers, couldn't understand how his brainiac best friend had made such a mistake. He had never seen her stray from the instructions before — the girl lived for instructions! Convinced that their books were the same and she had finally lost her mind, he turned to scowl at their snickering classmates, shooting an especially dark look at his blond-haired nemesis.

Hermione, on the other hand, ignored them all and held her head high, never breaking eye contact with the looming professor. "I read an article in _Potions Monthly_ that claimed slicing lemongrass instead of mincing it would allow for better cohesion and result in a more potent brew, except in the case of the Wolfsbane Potion, where mincing is required, of course." She didn't bother to hide the triumphant tone in her voice as she made her case. She knew that she was right.

For a moment, she thought she saw a glimmer of amusement in Snape's eyes, but it was gone a second later, leaving her to doubt whether his cold expression had actually changed at all. She held her breath and waited for his undoubtedly sarcastic reply.

"I know you pride yourself on being an insufferable know-it-all, but I will not tolerate blatant disregard for the directions in this class. You will do well to forget any crackpot notions you've read elsewhere and follow the prescribed text."

Several members of the class snickered at his not-so-gentle correction and the witch in question flushed in anger. "Yes, _sir_ ," she very nearly spat.

Snape silenced the room with a piercing glare before placing his hands on her desk and leaning down threateningly. "Detention, Miss Granger. Same time, same place."

The witch's grip tightened around the ceramic knife in her hand, turning her knuckles white. Had she had an ounce less control over her facilities, she would've embedded the blade in the pale flesh between his fingers. "Yes, sir."

His eyes bored into hers for what felt like an eternity before he broke the connection and silently waved his wand over her open textbook. As he walked away, Hermione looked down and realized that he had changed the lemongrass preparation directions for the potion from mince to slice. Her head shot up and she stared at the professor's retreating form in shock, anger, and confusion. Though she couldn't see his face, she could just about imagine his smug expression.

"What the bloody hell is his problem?!" Harry whispered furiously.

She shook her head and dropped her eyes back down to her potion ingredients. "I have absolutely no idea." And for once, it was the complete truth.

Despite her distraction with trying to figure out this latest development, Hermione managed to brew a perfect batch of the root strengthening potion. When she handed the professor her bottled sample, he had the nerve to smirk at her.

"Try not to be late this evening, Miss Granger," Snape drawled silkily as the girl slipped out the classroom door without a word. His smirk intensified when he heard her exasperated growl echo from the dungeon corridor.

* * *

That evening, Hermione skipped dinner in favor of doing some research. She had some nagging questions rolling around her head ever since Snape's little performance earlier and the library was the only place she knew that had always held the answers for her. When she walked through the familiar wooden doors, hoping that this visit wouldn't be any different, she turned away from the shelves that had provided her with so much knowledge over the years and instead made her way to the school's collection of periodicals.

After nearly thirty minutes of searching, not being entirely sure what it was she was looking for, the Gryffindor broke the heavy silence with a triumphant, "Yes!" and indulged in an impromptu victory dance right there in the aisle.

A half-second later, Madam Pince materialized from amongst the stacks with a stern glower on her face. "Miss Granger," she chided in her usual severe whisper. "You of all people should know the rules of this sanctum."

Hermione's ears grew warm as she froze in place, clutching a magazine to her chest. She did indeed know better, but damn it all if it hadn't been worth it. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

The librarian's beady eyes narrowed on the Head Girl. Irma Pince had always been mistrustful of students who spent too much time with her precious books and the curly-haired witch was at the top of that list. "See that it doesn't," she muttered before disappearing with her faithful feather duster once again.

Subdued but nonetheless elated, the Muggle-born went back to her task and after another half an hour of sifting through the shelves of old journals and newspapers, left the library with an armful of ammunition. It was her turn to sport a self-satisfied smirk when she entered the dungeons a few minutes later.

Snape was grading assignments as usual and didn't look up when she came in. With cool determination, she marched right up to his desk and dropped an entire stack of Potions journals directly on top of the essay he was reading. He looked up sharply as the resounding thud echoed through the room.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded angrily.

Hermione sucked a deep breath between her teeth but still managed to give him a sickeningly sweet smile. "I visited the library tonight to get a better look at that issue of _Potions Monthly_ I cited in class today. It had been awhile since the last time I read it — over summer break, actually — and I thought that maybe I had missed something. I've never paid much attention to bylines, but imagine my surprise when I saw the one for that particular article."

Snape's eyes definitely glinted this time as he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms in front of him. "You're trying my patience, Miss Granger. Either make your point or go sit down."

Refusing to abandon her efforts now, Hermione tapped into her Gryffindor courage in order to deliver the final blow. "My point, _Professor_ **,** is that you knew I was handling the lemongrass correctly because you're the one that wrote the theory. In fact, I came across nearly a dozen articles that you've written that directly contradict techniques you teach during class." She pointed to the stack of magazines between them, which had neatly cut strips of parchment sticking out behind the glossy covers, marking each article that the man in question had penned. The wizard studied her with an inscrutable expression, never looking down at the journals, and she stared back at him defiantly.

"You really are entirely too bright for your own good," he conceded after a moment of silence.

Her defensive stance relaxed slightly at his backhanded praise — it was a rare occurrence, after all. "May I ask why, Professor?"

"That will depend on your ability to narrow down the question."

Her brow furrowed. Why did he always have to be so bloody evasive? Nevertheless, she could do this. The questions practically left skid marks as they screeched out her subconscious. " _Why_ did you act like you had no idea what I was doing with the lemongrass when clearly you did? Why did you criticize me in front of the whole class, only to change the instructions in my book? And why, exactly, am I here, if I didn't do anything wrong?"

His obsidian eyes glinted again, filled with some emotion teetering between amusement and irritation, and Hermione found herself unconsciously holding her breath, thinking that perhaps tonight, the riddle would finally be answered.

"You're here because you failed to follow orders in my class. I will not tolerate that from anyone, regardless of whether it was I that proposed the technique or not." He gathered the journals and placed the stack on top of the essays he had set aside for her. "Now, can I assume that you will return these from whence they came so that they can continue to be ignored until someone else of your _voracity_ deems to throw them in my face?"

She stood there, blinking at him stupidly for a moment before realizing that his ambiguous, half-answer was the only one she'd be receiving that night. With a sigh, she bit back the argument that threatened to escape, figuring it was better not to push her luck. She collected the pile off the corner of his desk and went to sit down, a small but determined smile playing on her lips. Despite his terse words, this round went to her.

* * *

Much to her dismay, Hermione's triumph didn't last long. Wednesday's Potions class earned her yet another detention, this time apparently because Harry's Befuddlement Draught had turned out too well.

Although she hadn't said a word the entire class and her best friend had indeed brewed his assignment all on his own, Snape was positive that she had assisted her fellow Gryffindor somehow, due to his highly vocal assumption that "Potter is too thickheaded to create these results on his own."

Of course, that comment had resulted in the Seeker's temper flaring up, and he foolishly lashed out at the man, who was infinitely better armed for the verbal sparring match. In the end, Hermione had to jab the angry boy hard in the ribs to shut him up.

Interestingly enough, Snape didn't give Harry detention for his disrespect, though he did put a sizable dent in the Gryffindor hourglass. Such an uncharacteristic reprieve led Hermione to wonder if she had been the reason behind his decision. In all of the detentions she had served over the past months — all seventeen billion of them — she had always been alone with the surly man. Never once had there been another student in the dungeon classroom with them except for Ron, who had been given the task of rearranging disciplinary records, which coincidentally had led to her finding out that her detentions weren't even being logged. It didn't take a genius to come to the conclusion that perhaps that singular event hadn't been so coincidental after all — Snape had been the one to assign both the detention and the task, vaguely aware, at the very least, of the probable outcome — and Hermione Granger was far from stupid.

As she packed up her potions kit, she shot a covert glance at the dark-haired wizard, who didn't look up from the notes he was scratching into his grade book. Had he done all of this on purpose? Had he been giving her bogus detentions for weeks now and simultaneously given her the proof of their illegitimacy? If he had, what were his motives behind such a nonsensical act? To lure her to his classroom under false pretenses only to flat out ignore her once she was there? Sure not. Surely an intelligent, seemingly rational albeit cantankerous man would have more logical reasons than that.

She continued to stare at his bowed head, as if hoping the answers would somehow start radiating from his lank hair, until the clock chimes released the class and Harry forcefully pulled her from her seat.

"Now are you ready to do something about him, Hermione?" the green-eyed wizard asked furiously once they were out in the hall. "He's being completely ridiculous!"

She frowned and shook her meandering thoughts back to the present. "I told you, he's just trying to get the better of me. You need to just stay out of it. At least he's not taking any House points from _me_."

"That's right, Potty," the Head Boy drawled behind them, having been unapologetically eavesdropping on their conversation. "I'd personally like to thank you for helping Slytherin win the Cup this year."

Harry turned and sneered at the blond, nearly causing a traffic jam in the process. "Sod off, Malfoy. You haven't won the Cup a single year, and nothing short of Voldemort coming back from the dead is going to break that streak."

Draco, like most pure-bloods, blanched at the sound of the deceased Dark Lord's name. "We'll just see who catches the Snitch first," he snapped as he pushed passed them.

"Don't worry; I'm sure you'll have a ring-side seat when _I_ do!" Harry called after the Slytherin, who flashed him an obscene hand gesture in reply.

"You see, Hermione?" he asked, scowling darkly at the trickle of seventh-years that hurried after the spoiled prat. "Bloody Slytherins are all the same! Malfoy's trying to take our Cup and Snape's clearly angling to keep you out of every university on the continent!"

She let out a weary sigh. "Actually, he's not."

"What do you mean? Of course he is. He's given you more detentions this year than the rest of the school combined!"

"I know, Harry." It was obvious that she had to tell him the truth, at least the tiny part of it that she actually knew, but her acceptance of that fact didn't make it any easier. He was bound to have a conniption fit.

"Look, I need to tell you something, but you have to promise not to freak out about it," she said, forcing her voice to remain calm as she steered the raven-haired wizard towards the castle doors. It'd be best for them to be outside in the likely event that he decided to start yelling.

"What?" he demanded, glancing at the girl suspiciously before following her down the stone steps. If there was anything that he had developed an aversion to over the years more than that snake-faced bastard he was finally rid of, it was being kept in the dark by people that he trusted. He had experienced that feeling one too many times, as well as the inevitable consequences.

"Remember the reconnaissance mission you sent Ron on last Friday?"

He swallowed and ran his fingers through his hair. "What are you talking about? I didn't—"

She held up her hand. "Don't bother denying it. I know what you two were up to, but that's not what this is about." She took a deep breath and let her eyes roam across the school's landscape, just in time to see another familiar redhead bounding across the lawn.

"Hey, guys!" Ginny called cheerfully, increasing her pace to catch up with the pair.

Hermione didn't think she'd ever been so relieved to see the younger witch. Ginny would be able to help defuse Harry or, at the very least, distract him. "Ginny, come walk with us by the lake. There's something I need to tell the both of you."

When they reached the water's edge, the trio took their shoes off to scrunch their toes in the cool, wet sand, and after an impatient prompt from her best friend, Hermione explained what she and Ron had discovered a few nights ago. Once finished, she sat down on one of the flat boulders that jutted out over the surf and waited for the fallout.

True to character, Ginny found the whole situation rather amusing, and to Hermione's immense relief, Harry's reaction was far better than she had expected. He was actually happy to hear that the detentions weren't going on her permanent record, which was sweet, really, that he was that concerned about her future. The one hitch was that the news only seemed to intensify the boy hero's already rampant suspicions of the former Death Eater.

"Well, he's obviously scheming something. Snape never does anything without a personal agenda," he said to no one in particular, voicing his frustration as he tossed a rock into the still water. "I just wish that I could figure out what the hell it is."

Hermione didn't think that truer words had ever been spoken. "You and me both, Harry," she replied, just as a giant tentacle rose out of the murky depths to bat the boy's stone back ashore. "You and me both."

* * *

Later that night, Hermione returned to the dungeons and by the time the clock struck eight, she was already sitting at her desk behind yet another stack of atrocious assignments. After reading for a few minutes, she snorted, breaking the usual stale silence and causing Snape to glance up with a raised eyebrow.

Sensing his movement, she met his gaze and flushed in embarrassment. "Sorry."

"May I ask what the cause of that highly unladylike noise was?"

Her cheeks felt like they would spontaneously combust at any moment but she grinned nonetheless. "It's just that some of these kids are utterly hopeless. I don't think that this boy even bothered to open his Potions book." She held up the red-streaked parchment. "This makes absolutely no sense!"

He smirked. "Welcome to my personal hell, Miss Granger. I've been receiving idiotic essays such as that for sixteen years now."

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle, behavior that she normally tried to suppress at all costs in the man's presence. When he refrained from making any of the numerous snide comments that she expected, she decided to push the boundaries just a bit further. "You know, Professor, if you didn't assign so many essays then you wouldn't have to suffer through so many."

He laid his quill down and rolled his neck from side to side in an uncharacteristic display of fatigue. Had she had a death wish, she might've been prompted to ask if he fancied a massage.

"I use the assignment of essays not only as a teaching tool but as a form of punishment. The more moronic a class is the more essays they're assigned, which, unsurprisingly, is precisely why your class receives them on a daily basis." Severus gave the girl a calculating look, trying to anticipate her reaction to his next question before he chanced it. "Would you have me give the dunderheads all detention instead?"

The Gryffindor's mouth fell open ever so slightly as she watched the challenge glint animatedly in his obsidian eyes. Was he aware of the subtle double meaning in his question? It seemed glaringly obvious to her. If he gave out all the detentions that he _believed_ were deserved, then there'd always be a classroom full of students down here — he did think that just about everyone in the school was a "dunderhead", after all. But despite her attempts to act otherwise, Hermione knew that she had begun to covet the quiet evenings she spent alone with the moody Potions Master, even when he infuriated her. If given the choice, which apparently she was, she wouldn't want anyone to encroach on their time together.

"No, sir," she replied with a shy smile. "I wouldn't want that."

The corners of his mouth twitched, and Hermione could've sworn that he was on the verge of smiling at her, or at the very least, smirking in amused appreciation. Her breath caught in the back of her throat in anticipation, but a moment later, his face was as impassive as ever and he returned his attention back to the essay in front of him without another word. It took several minutes for her breathing to return to normal and even longer to regain enough concentration to resume her own task.

An hour later, their quiet solitude was interrupted again when the classroom door swung open with a loud creak and Draco Malfoy strolled in as if he owned the place. "Severus, I need—" He stopped abruptly when his gray eyes fell on the witch sitting at the desk at the front of the room. Hermione turned in time to see confusion replace the surprise on his pointy face as he glanced questioningly from her to the older Slytherin.

"Now is not a good time, Mr. Malfoy," Snape chided in the more or less respectful tone he apparently reserved for the students of his House.

"But I—" the blond began again, only to be silenced mid-sentence by a glare that clearly said _Go Away_.

"If whatever you need to discuss cannot wait until tomorrow, then I'll come find you in the common room after Miss Granger's detention is completed."

Looking thoroughly scandalized, Draco nodded and muttered an unintelligible response before making a hasty departure. The Head Girl bit back a giggle, thinking about what Harry and Ron would've given to see the ferret scamper away with his tail between his legs like that, before glancing back at the professor. He was staring at her with that damned unreadable expression of his. Flashing him another shy half smile, she went back to grading the mindless drivel that passed for homework these days, and the rest of the evening passed by without her knowledge.

* * *

After she had tucked herself in bed that night, Hermione thought a great deal about the odd dance that she had become entangled in with the Potions Master. There was really no way of knowing what the man was thinking from one moment to the next. He was a complete enigma, one that had been constantly changing in her mind ever since the moment she had entered her first Potions class.

During her first six years at Hogwarts, she had gone from thinking that he was an evil monster who desperately wanted to kill Harry, to defending his innocence at every turn, to utterly respecting him for his role as the Order's spy. This year, however, that respect had mutated back into loathing, thanks to his dubious behavior, and was currently evolving again, as most delusional attachments are apt to do, into a strong _awareness_ of him in a totally different light.

That was a particularly bitter pill to swallow. Sure he was a brilliant and undeniably powerful wizard, but he was also a total recluse, a complete bastard, and _twice_ her age. Somehow, despite all of those blaring warning bells, or maybe because of them — she couldn't be quite sure which — her stomach still had started to flutter inappropriately whenever she was in his vicinity. And these weren't flutters of fear like they should be, mind you, but warm, fuzzy, full out flutters of attraction.

She was unaware of exactly when these _feelings_ had developed, but she'd been trying her best to ignore them for some time now, even resorting to constraining the more incessant thoughts with the Occlumency techniques the Headmaster had taught her and the boys last year. That method had even worked for a while — ignoring the butterflies and focusing instead on the irrefutable anger she felt towards him — but then the dreams had started, dreams so captivating that they left her cheeks flushed and her knickers damp when she awoke. Nothing sort of Obliviating herself, which she refused to consider, had been effective against _that_ sort of torture.

Of course, the wizard's latest antics — the ones which suggested that perhaps he didn't loathe the very sight of her after all — only acerbated the problem. And it was a problem, a bloody big one. He was her teacher, for Merlin's sake, and she was the Gryffindor Head Girl, brightest witch of her age, and celebrated war hero. She did not develop ridiculous attachments to her professors — save for her supreme lack of judgment in her second year, obviously. And he, an ex-Death Eater, Master Spy, and all around thoroughly unpleasant individual, did not and would never see her as anything but an annoyance and a means of escaping his more menial teaching duties.

These were all things that she knew to be unequivocally true, yet as sleep settled heavily on her befuddled brain, Hermione conceded — only to herself and the snoring fluff ball in her arms — that despite all the solid, incontrovertible reasons not to, she had developed a definite affinity for Severus Snape. She also acknowledged, without a doubt in her mind, that it would prove as wholly unrequited as her last foray into silly schoolgirl crushes had been.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

By some incomprehensible stroke of luck, Hermione made it through the rest of the school week, including Friday's Potions class, without earning another detention. Feeling a bit wrong-footed by her unusual good fortune, she lingered in the dungeon classroom for several minutes after they had been dismissed, expecting Snape to suddenly regain his senses and rectify his error. She suspected that he had begun to rethink his tactics after her confrontation the other night, but she refused, even after the previous evening's startling introspection, to verbally admit that she didn't actually want him to.

"Is there a problem, Miss Granger?" Snape asked, having watched the girl's exaggeratedly slow movements from behind his dark curtain of hair.

She turned to face him and shook her head, a pink hue creeping across her cheeks, discernible even in the dreary lamp-light. "No, sir."

He studied the witch for a moment, idly wondering what was causing her apparent discomfort, before endeavoring to get rid of her. "Might I suggest, then, that you quicken your pace? Surely, your presence is missed somewhere within the castle — the library, perhaps."

The heat on her face flared as Hermione slipped her book sack over her shoulder and dropped her gaze to the floor, feeling like an utter fool. "Yes, sir."

The wizard smirked as he watched her head for the door. "Oh, and, Miss Granger?" he called in a silky, almost taunting voice. "I'll need your disciplinary card back sometime this term."

Without daring to respond, the Head Girl rushed out of the Potions laboratory, her mind so preoccupied with what his parting words implied that she nearly trampled the group of fourth-years loitering in the hallway, waiting for permission, or perhaps courage, to enter the classroom. She didn't slow down until she was safely ensconced in the Gryffindor common room, where she decided that she was now quite glad she wouldn't be returning to the dungeons that evening.

* * *

After dinner, Hermione decided to spend a portion of her detention-free hours visiting with her Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. She was keenly aware that she had been spending the majority of her time lately with the adult residents of Hogwarts rather than with her friends, but she shoved that particular thought to the back of her mind. She was in desperate need of some mature advice on her current predicament and she knew Remus would be just the person to give it to her.

In the intermingling years since that fateful, Dementor-riddled ride aboard the Hogwarts express, she had discovered that the last remaining Marauder had a highly developed ability to read people — having to constantly decipher whether or not you were likely to be persecuted for afflictions beyond your control tend to do that to a person. Luckily for them, that same insight had proved immensely helpful to the Order. Where Snape had infiltrated the Death Eaters to weaken Voldemort's defense from the inside, Lupin had sought out allies from amongst the unlikeliest sources to bolster the Order's offense. In the end, the war would not have been won without either of their efforts.

Presently, Hermione hoped that he'd be able to put his keen and penetrating mind to the task of reading between the lines of Snape's cryptic playbook. She hurried to the third floor, and when she found the classroom dark and empty, proceeded to Remus' office and knocked on the door that led to his private study. Normally, students weren't allowed within a teacher's living quarters, for obvious reasons — as well acquainted as she had become with Professor McGonagall over the years, the Head Girl still didn't know where the older woman's rooms even were — but Remus Lupin fell into a different category. While he was both her teacher and an authority figure within the castle, he was also a dear friend, and though, she had never considered the former werewolf the father figure that Harry now did, she had come to think of him as somewhat of a confidante.

When her first knock went unanswered, she rapped on the wood a little harder, hoping that he wasn't out for the night. Remus had been dating Nymphadora Tonks for nearly a year, and Hermione knew that the Auror didn't like spending time at the castle for fear of causing undermining rumors amongst the students. Thankfully, after her second knock, the door opened and the slightly crumpled wizard smiled warmly at her.

"Good evening, Hermione."

She easily returned his smile. "Hi. Are you busy? I was hoping to have a little chat."

He opened the door widely and beckoned her through. "Come on in. I was just trying to catch up on some of my grading."

"Maybe you should start assigning detentions," she suggested with an impish grin as she followed him into the study.

Remus chuckled and crossed the fire-lit room to the tea service on his desk. "Would you care for some tea?" he asked, refilling his own mug.

Hermione sat down on the familiar sofa, tucking one leg under her, and nodded. "That sounds heavenly."

With a wink, he poured a second cup and joined her on the couch. "So how has your week been?"

Holding the mug up to her lips, she considered the question for a moment, enjoying the spicy, floral aroma of the Darjeeling blend. "Interesting," she finally admitted before taking a sip.

He didn't seem surprised. "Really? How so?"

Hermione shook her head. She wasn't quite sure how to explain. "The issue with Professor Snape has… taken a rather odd turn." That was surely the understatement of the year.

The man chuckled. "Has it? And what has Severus done now?"

Taking his opening for what it was, she quickly recounted the past few incidents that had left her perplexed, describing in detail the exchanges she had kept secret from her friends. For Remus' part, he listened attentively, interrupting only to summon the tea pot and refill their mugs or to clarify something she had said, and by the end of her account, he appeared highly amused.

She sat back and sipped her tea again, watching him mull over the information, but after a few minutes without a response, suspense got the better of her. "So what do you make of it?"

"Well, it's hard to say, really," he said slowly, staring at the crackling logs in the fire. "Severus is a rather... _unique_ man." Hermione snorted, and he smiled at her. "But I do have a few suspicions."

She set her mug on the coffee table and leaned towards him, clearly intrigued. "Such as?"

Remus followed suit and put his teacup down beside hers, his expression unusually guarded. "First, let me ask you, Hermione, what's your opinion of him, given the present circumstances?"

She swallowed somewhat nervously. "Well, I respect him a great deal, you know, even though he's been such a git. He risked a lot for our side during the war, after all, and he's a rather brilliant Potions Master."

The wizard's hazel eyes glittered with amusement at her dispassionate reply. He had long since suspected that there was something more to her feelings than just run-of-the-mill respect. No woman of her intelligence would be so thoroughly rattled by Snape's obviously ill-founded taunts without there being deeper-rooted emotions at play. "I agree," he replied. "But that's not the type of opinion I was referring to."

The girl's cheeks flushed slightly and she suddenly became engrossed in the state of her cuticles. When she didn't respond, he smiled fondly at her bowed head. "Come now, Hermione. We're both adults here. You're of age and will be finishing school in a few months. And I'd like to hope that, by now, you know you can trust me with anything."

She looked up and met his gaze. "I know I can, Remus. It's just a hard question to answer. I don't really know how I feel." She took a deep breath. "I started out the year respecting him like I do all my teachers. Then, of course, I loathed him for picking on me the way that he has."

Another chuckle. "Of course. And what about _now_?"

"Now?" The witch sighed in annoyance, mainly with herself. "Now I'm nothing short of hopelessly fascinated by him."

" _Fascinated_?" Remus asked with a bemused, lopsided grin.

She nodded. "Everything about him intrigues me, not just his recent behavior. I enjoy his sarcastic wit, his self-assuredness, his unquestionable intelligence. I find myself utterly, and at times, regrettably, mesmerized by his very presence."

"You _fancy_ him," he clarified, not at all surprised by the girl's confession.

Hermione hid her now scarlet cheeks behind her hands and nodded again. She did, Gods help her. She fancied the greasy bat.

Lupin's grin took on a smug, almost wolfish quality, reminiscent of his days as Moony. "I suspected as much."

She dropped her hands and stared at the wizard. "Suspected? How could you? I've barely just figured it out for myself."

"Yes, but the people involved are usually the last to know," he replied, taking up his tea cup again. "To an overly curious bystander, though, it was quite obvious that you've developed a, shall we say, _fondness_ for Severus, despite your rather adamant claims that he infuriates you."

"That's just it! He does infuriate me, beyond belief, and I revel in every bloody minute of it! I've never had anyone challenge me the way he does." She sighed dramatically and threw her head into her lap. "Oh, Gods, this is so ridiculous! Not only is he twenty years older than me, but he's been my teacher since I was eleven, for Merlin's sake!"

He smirked at the younger Gryffindor's uncharacteristic theatrics. "You've seemed to have forgotten the fact that he's a brooding, mean-spirited bastard most of the time, too," he teased, trying to alleviate her embarrassment. The distressed lines on her forehead did fade as a small grin stole across her features and before long, they were both laughing.

Trying to catch her breath and organize her thoughts, Hermione retrieved her own tea and held the cup up to her face, breathing in the calming steam again as she stared into the fire. "Am I losing it, Remus? Is this the craziest thing you've ever heard?"

"Far from it, I'm afraid," he said with a gentle sigh. "Granted, it's a little out there, considering whom we're talking about, but I think I can understand it."

She turned to him with a curious expression and knew that she'd never fully appreciated the man's friendship more than she did at that moment. "Really? Because I can't."

He chuckled and sat his now empty mug down again. "Despite all of Severus' many faults, and believe me, there are many — probably more than either of us will ever know about — he's a good man deep down. And aside from your obvious differences, I think that the two of you could actually make a good match. I can't even begin to comprehend the things you could accomplish together, brilliant as you both are."

The Muggle-born's resulting smile had an underlying sadness to it like a smile one might give after hearing a joke during a loved one's eulogy. "Sweet of you to say, really, but all for naught, don't you think? It's not as if he'd ever regard my affection with anything other than disdain, and quite possibly, ridicule." She sighed and drained the remnants of her tea, wishing it were some sort of miracle, ego-boosting, heart-numbing potion instead. Then again, if it were a potion, _he_ would've been the one to brew it, and she'd never request such a thing from him. She sighed again, annoyed with her own circular, nonsensical musings.

"Actually, I believe you're mistaken on that point," Remus replied. "In fact, I'm almost positive that it's quite the opposite that's been causing his peculiar behavior as of late."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Meaning what, exactly?" She was too mentally exhausted to interpret that last bit on her own.

"Meaning, I've been keeping a close eye on him since our last discussion and you'd be surprised by the number of times I've noticed him watching you."

"Really?" she asked, her voice rising an octave on its own accord. "Watching how? Like he was plotting his next move or... or what? Was he sneering?"

Remus patted the near-hysterical girl on the arm. This whole thing was really starting to take its toll on her. "Calm down, love. He's just been watching you, intently, but not really in an obvious way. I can't be sure, of course, but if I had to guess, I'd say that Severus had developed an interest in you that's not strictly academic. And if that's the case, then I'm sure that he doesn't have the slightest clue how to deal with those types of feelings either."

"So he's torturing me into insanity?" she asked incredulously, unable to comprehend the possibility that the Slytherin of her recent, obsessive thoughts might return her interest.

The former werewolf couldn't help but laugh at the witch's expression, a rather colorful blend of surprise and indignation with a sprinkle of longing mixed in for good measure. "You have to see his point of view in all this, Hermione. If he has, in fact, formed an attraction to you, then it must be practically unbearable for him." He raised his hand to stifle her defensive retort. "You're his student, first and foremost, and Severus is a proud man, not like that fool Lockhart who bedded nearly every witch above the age of consent during his short tenure here. I'd imagine that he finds his fondness for you bordering on immoral. You're a brilliant, beautiful young woman, which I'm sure makes him feel that he could never deserve you. He's an ex-Death Eater, after all, and more than a bit emotionally stunted." Remus sighed regretfully, knowing that he and his friends probably had a great deal to do with both of those things. "Top all that off with the daily reminder that you're best friends with his arch enemy's son... Well, surely you can see how this might be hard for him."

Hermione looked away, staring into the fire for a minute as she tried to process her friend's words. There certainly was a ring of truth to them. If it were possible for Snape to fancy her in that way, then those were most likely the type of mental hurdles he'd be facing. They made her own look far less imposing in comparison. "You'd make a good psychiatrist, Remus."

He raised his brow in question, obviously having no clue what a "psychiatrist" was, and she shook her head. "Never mind, I just meant that I'd nearly forgotten how perceptive you can be. I can definitely see your point."

"It's a complex situation, and like I said before, Severus is a complicated man."

"So what am I supposed to do? I don't think I can continue playing this game with him all year, but I can hardly confront him about such a thing. If you're off the mark, I'll end up with _proper_ detentions for the rest of term, probably with Filch."

Remus chuckled again. "That's a strong possibility, which is why it's hard to say, really, what you should do. I think the proper thing would be to wait until you're officially no longer his student, but at the rate you two are going, I doubt if either of you'd make it to June alive."

A slow, vindictive grin spread across the Head Girl's face. "Correction: _He_ wouldn't make it to June alive, and I'd miss graduation because I'd be sent to Azkaban on murder charges. Of course, if a single member of the Wizengamot was ever a student of his, I'd get off scot-free." They laughed, each knowing that both those statements were undoubtedly true.

"In the end," the Defense professor surmised as he stood, collecting their mugs and Scourgifing them with a flick of his wand, "you have to have this conversation with Severus."

Hermione sighed and extracted herself from the sofa. "I was afraid you'd say that."

After he had walked the distracted witch out and bade her good night, Remus found it all but impossible to resume the grading he had been doing before her visit. With a sigh, he gave up trying and settled into the sofa cushions, watching the slowly-dying embers in the hearth as he contemplated exactly what he had just set in motion.

A relationship, only recently foreseeable, forming between a Gryffindor student barely of age and a Slytherin teacher nearly two decades her senior was certainly unorthodox, but it wasn't unthinkable, especially not in the magical realm where people generally lived into their hundred and fifties. Considering the Muggle-born's level of maturity, it was hardly surprising that she be attracted to an older wizard. Had it been Harry who started swooning over, say, Rolanda Hooch, Remus would've been the first to talk the boy out of it, and for more reasons than the fact that Hooch was a devout lesbian. But Hermione needed a partner who could operate on the same level as she, and that wasn't going to be found in any of the current seventh-years.

No, age wouldn't be the main catalyst for the epic controversy that the healed lycanthrope knew was coming. It'd undoubtedly be the fact that curly-haired witch was one of the highly revered members of the Golden Trio while Snape, though a prized member of the Order, was still publicly reviled as a Dark wizard. Most of the wizarding world, and sadly, the majority of his personal acquaintances, would view such a union as a tragic loss of one of their brightest and most promising stars.

Remus snorted. He knew that the fiery little Head Girl would be livid with this assumption and he didn't blame her. Like he had told her, he truly believed that Severus was a good man and he had more than enough collaborating evidence to that end. The cantankerous wizard had saved his life many times over, even though he had hated him since childhood, and it was high time that the favor was returned. If that meant encouraging Hermione's affections in the face of the drama that it would inevitably cause, then so be it. It wouldn't be the first time he had caused a scandal at the school.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

After her talk with Remus, Hermione went to bed more confused about her predicament with Snape than ever. She slept poorly, yet awoke feeling upbeat and well rested. Surprisingly, at some point during her agitated tossing and turning, an idea had festered into her subconscious. She held no delusional hopes of getting the guarded Slytherin to admit to feelings that she couldn't be sure he even had, but if her dream-inspired plan was successful, she'd at least be able to spend some more time alone with him, which would provide her with an opportunity to further study his behavior. With determination in her eyes and a bounce in her step that hadn't been there the night before, Hermione peeled herself out of bed and headed for the shower.

After carefully bathing, the Head Girl dressed for the day and confined her hopeless hair into a single braided plait. Once assured that every frizzy curl was chemically subdued, she crossed the room and retrieved the pivotal piece of the day's strategy from her desk. She smiled fondly at the now infamous index card before slipping it into the pocket of her robes and heading downstairs to join her friends.

Breakfast was a noisy affair that morning. It was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the school year and the Great Hall was alive with excited chatter. Harry and Ron were already plotting the day's agenda when Hermione took a seat across from them.

"Morning, Hermione," the younger of the two greeted cheerfully. "Great day to go to the Village, isn't it?"

She smiled at him, feeling instantly guilty for wanting to ditch her best friends to spend the morning with the dark inhabitant of the dungeons — a feeling that was only exacerbated by their ingrained abhorrence of the man in question. Well, if her plan didn't work and the professor dismissed her without a second glance, or if there was time left over, she'd make it a point to walk over and meet them.

"Actually, I don't think I'll be going today," she said quietly, avoiding the wizard's emerald gaze.

"What?" Harry and Ron echoed in unison.

Hermione bit her bottom lip and looked to Ginny for moral support but found the redhead looking just as confused as the boys. She then glanced up at to the notably vacant seat at the staff table and remembered why she needed to do this. There'd at least be just cause behind her deceit this time.

"I want to get some studying done while the school's quiet," she replied, flashing them another smile as she chose an orange from the bowl in the center of the table.

"Don't be daft, Hermione! It's Saturday. You can't possibly study on a Saturday," Ron said, knowing full well how often he had had this same argument with her. "Plus, Fred and George are going to be at the store today."

A new wave of guilt washed over her at the thought of missing a visit with the twins, but she quickly waved it away. "With all these detentions lately, I've fallen behind with my N.E.W.T. revision schedule. I really need to spend a couple of interruption-free hours in the library." Okay, obviously the last part was a complete fabrication, but the rest was true enough. She had missed out on a lot of studying lately, thanks to a certain maddening dark-haired man.

"Hermione, exams are seven months away," Harry pointed out with an exasperated shake of his head.

Ginny snorted into her pumpkin juice. "Since when has that ever mattered?"

Hermione shot the girl a playful scowl before the four of them broke into laughter. Her record of over-obsessing seemed to have paid off in this instance and as the conversation turned back to the contraband the boys hoped to secure at Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, the curly-haired witch peeled her orange with a wave of her wand and smiled. Phase one of her plan had been a glowing success.

After breakfast, Hermione followed her friends to the Entrance Hall. Predictably, they tried to convince her yet again that she'd have plenty of time to study after the weekend, but she stood her ground. They eventually conceded defeat and joined the parade of students traversing the lawn and heading for the gates leading to the village. Her insides did a little victory dance as she watched them go.

Just as the group passed through the trees and out of sight, she heard a familiar female voice calling her name from across the vestibule. She turned in time to see Luna Lovegood gliding in her direction.

"Not going to Hogsmeade today?" the petite Ravenclaw asked in her usual dreamy tone.

Hermione smiled, noticing the girl's wand jutting out from the messy bun at the back of her head. She had become increasingly fond of Luna since their escapades in the Department of Mysteries two years previous but wasn't able to socialize with her often because of their difference in Houses and years.

"No, not today. I've got some work to do in the castle," the Head Girl replied.

The blonde's eyes swept appraisingly down the Gryffindor and she smiled. "Yes, I suppose you do."

Getting the distinct impression that her half-truth wasn't fooling the younger witch, who had always possessed an uncanny and slightly eerie ability to perceive things that no one else did, Hermione let out a nervous chuckle. "Lots of studying to do."

"Well, have fun. I'm hoping to spot some Blibbering Humdingers today!" Luna said cheerfully, holding up a rather battered-looking camera.

The older girl chuckled again. This was the unique charm of being friends with Loony Lovegood — the conversations were certainly never dull. "Good luck with that, Luna," she called as the blonde turned and skipped merrily down the stone steps, her radish earrings swinging freely from her lobes.

With an amused shake of her head, the Muggle-born glanced around the Entrance Hall, and upon finding it satisfyingly empty, gathered her courage and set her sights on her intended destination. She never noticed that a certain Slytherin had lagged behind the group heading for the village and had overheard her conversation with Luna. Nor did she see the pale, suspicious eyes that followed her through the entrance to the dungeons.

Once she reached the familiar dank corridor, Hermione found the Potions classroom empty. Having already anticipated this possibility — it was the weekend, after all — she proceeded unfettered to the Slytherin Head of House's office. And it was at that point that her determination gave out on her, along with her nerves and her stomach, apparently. She stood there, in front of the most menacing door known to man, for at least five full minutes, torn between going ahead with her plan, running away like a coward, or regurgitating her breakfast in the corner. After several deep, calming breaths and a self-berating pep talk, she reached out with a shaky fist to knock on the distressed wood.

Before she had the chance to come to her senses, the door was wrenched open and she was greeted, first with an angry sneer, then with a look of surprised confusion, and finally by the forced, emotionless facade of the resident Potions Master.

"Miss Granger? What are you doing down here? Shouldn't you be on your way to Hogsmeade with the other two-thirds of the _Golden_ _Trio_?" he asked, a touch of scorn laced in his voice.

She smirked despite herself at his apparent disdain for the title. She had never been particularly fond of that one either. "No, sir. I had no interest in visiting the village today." She slid her hand into her pocket and withdrew the item she had carefully tucked away that morning. "I came to give this back." She held it out to him, concentrating intensely on preventing her hand from trembling. "And, I suppose, to offer an apology on Ronald's behalf."

Snape opened the door fully and accepted the index card from her hand. "I hold no delusions that Mr. Weasley sent you here to apologize or was in any way remorseful for his actions. I will, however, see that this makes its way back to where it belongs."

Hermione nodded before looking down at her shoes nervously, unsure of what else to say. She desperately wanted to ask him why her detentions hadn't been recorded, that had been her initial intention, but now that she was here, standing dangerously close to him, she couldn't summon the courage to form the words. This man was, after all, the epitome of intimidation, especially given her current feelings for him. She wasn't normally the type of person to be easily scared, not after everything she had seen and done since starting at Hogwarts, but at that particular moment, she was seriously close to turning around and sprinting all the way back to Gryffindor tower like a terrified first-year.

Snape studied the girl's bowed head with a scowl. Like the previous day, she seemed uncomfortable in his presence, which was unusual for her. Hermione Granger was perhaps the only non-Slytherin presently under his tutelage that he couldn't instill fear in — anger, yes, but not fear — and it had been that way since her very first Potions class. If that stubborn trait hadn't irritated him beyond belief, he would've admired it — he never had held much respect for witches that cowered like dormice, even from him — which is why the little Gryffindor's recent change in behavior was slightly unnerving. That and the fact that she hadn't asked a thousand questions about her conspicuously bare disciplinary record yet. He had been expecting that conversation for over a week now.

After a full minute of silence had passed, he lost his patience. "I have a great deal of things to attend to this morning, Granger. Perhaps you can study your shoes somewhere else."

Hermione's eyes shot up. What the hell was she doing? This was not part of her plan and staring at her feet like a timid schoolgirl certainly wasn't going to get her anywhere. With a mental kick in the pants to get her act in gear, she smiled indulgently. "Actually, Professor, seeing as I don't have any plans for today, I was wondering if I could be of any assistance to you. Grading papers or something, without the _pretense_ of detention?"

Snape gave her a piercing glare, having obviously caught her inflection. "I'm not marking essays today. My weekends are reserved for private research."

Clearly this was the wrong thing to say if he had hoped to deter her solicitation. The witch's eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store at the thought of watching the Potions Master brew something outside of the humdrum N.E.W.T. level curriculum. He noticed her piqued interest immediately and sighed in resignation.

"I'm currently brewing a very volatile experimental potion. I _may_ be able to use your assistance, but you'd have to follow my orders exactly and refrain from pestering me with your incessant questions." He looked at her skeptically, expecting her to argue.

Hermione, who would agree to just about anything for such an opportunity, simply smiled in acceptance of the conditions. If asked later she'd probably chalk it up to the shock factor of such an unforeseeable turn of events. "I'd be honored to help in your research."

His dark eyes locked on hers for another moment, seemingly penetrating her thoughts without the need of Legilimency, and for a moment she worried that he was going to change his mind and dismiss her. Therefore, she was both surprised and relieved when he stepped back and allowed her to enter with nothing more than a quiet, "Very well. Come in."

Once inside, the wizard shut the door and wordlessly led her to the back of the small office. With a flick of his wand, a second doorway appeared; this one amongst the shelves of creepy specimens suspended in jars of mysterious liquid. Strong magical wards passed over her as she followed the wizard across the threshold and into an empty antechamber and she rubbed the goosebumps that rose under her sleeves.

Snape hastily muttered a password under his breath and a stone archway materialized out of thin air, framing a third door along the far wall. Hermione was on the verge of commenting on his extreme security measures when the door opened to reveal a sight so awe-inspiring that she momentarily lost the power of speech. The pristine laboratory that lay before her was far brighter and airier than one would expect to find in the bowels of a castle. The upper half of the walls were lined with shelves filled to capacity with jars of ingredients, vials of colorful liquids, and a large collection of books and journals. The lower walls featured long counters littered with various scales, cauldrons, and distillery equipment. Three massive brewing stations stood in the center of the room, each consisting of a different type of work surface with recessed burners, resting on a series of drawers and cabinets, which undoubtedly held essential utensils of the trade. The room was somehow both state-of-the-art and classical at the same time, like modern paint over centuries old stone, yet done in a way that was tasteful instead of tacky.

After thoroughly scanning the room and taking in every last detail, her eyes came to rest on the Potions Master, who had been watching her every move. Unsure as to which was more impressive, the laboratory or the fact that she had been permitted inside it, Hermione managed to flash him a radiant smile. "This is amazing."

In lieu of a response, Snape moved to the marble workstation and peered into the cauldron bubbling on its surface. He knew his expression was rather smug. She was the first student to ever be allowed inside his private sanctuary and it had just passed her critique. While it really shouldn't matter to him what she thought, her approval was akin to receiving a compliment on one's offspring — flattering without necessarily intending to be.

"I'm currently working on a medicinal elixir," he said after a moment of silent concentration, choosing not to reply to the compliment. "I've been researching the components of this particular potion for nearly two years now, but today is the first time that I've attempted to brew it."

He frowned at the simmering liquid before looking over at her. "If my calculations are correct, it will serve to alleviate the physical side effects and regenerate the cell damage that's a product of prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse."

Hermione's mouth fell open in a mixture of surprise and admiration. "That's a very noble aspiration."

He turned back to the titanium cauldron and bowed his head to gently sniff the rising vapor. "Only time will tell if it's noble or foolish, I'm afraid."

She quietly watched him assess the potion for several minutes until her curiosity got the better of her. There was so much that she wanted to ask. Knowing that he normally despised her frequent questions in class and had actually forbade them only minutes before, she cleared her throat nervously.

At the sound, Severus cast a Stasis Charm over the cauldron before crossing his arms over his chest and turning to face the witch, an amused smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It's practically unbearable to you, isn't it, Miss Granger?"

"What do you mean?"

He shook his head slightly. "Go ahead and ask whatever it is that's on the verge of bursting from that overly-crowded mind of yours."

Hermione scowled at his presumption before admitting that it was entirely true. "I'm just curious as to what the side effects of the Cruciatus Curse are. The ones that you're trying to cure, I mean."

"Beyond your vast scope of knowledge?" he asked in a sarcastic tone, his brow arched.

Annoyance flashed across her features again. Did he always have to be so bloody rude? "I'm only familiar with the case of the Longbottoms."

"The Longbottoms' condition is in a different realm," the wizard said dismissively. "Their _minds_ were addled by the curse. This potion is geared toward victims who have been afflicted by the physical effects but whose mental capacities remain intact."

The Head Girl's brow furrowed as her ingrained yearning for knowledge overruled her desire not to annoy the temperamental man. "What's the difference?"

He leaned back against the counter, his long arms still folded in front of him. "What do you know about the Cruciatus Curse, Miss Granger?"

Being unprepared for that line of questioning, it took her a half-second longer to reply than normal. "Well, we were taught the theory behind it in fourth year."

"Mmm. By a delusional impostor, no less."

She grinned despite herself. "True, but his teaching abilities were superior to the rest of the frauds we've been subjected to over the years, besides Professor Lupin, of course."

"Of course," Snape said derisively. "But if memory serves, you've felt the short-term effects of the Cruciatus first hand, have you not?"

Hermione grimaced at the reminder of Bellatrix Lestrange's intimidation tactics. She hated that witch's memory nearly as much as Voldemort's. "Yes, sir, and I've never experienced more intense pain in my entire life," she replied quietly, before meeting his concentrated gaze. "I also know that even during the most desperate hours of the final battle, I didn't have enough nerve to cast it myself."

An unidentifiable emotion flickered through his dark eyes. "I doubt that lack of nerve had anything to do with it. I seem to remember you casting several powerful hexes that day."

Surprised that he knew so much about her actions during the last battle, she nodded but didn't verbally respond. Those memories were still too fresh to be glossed over, even in the form of a compliment.

"What you must understand," Severus continued, recognizing the witch's discomfort a moment too late to prevent it, "is that the Cruciatus Curse is the very epitome of Dark magic."

The Gryffindor frowned. "Meaning what, exactly?"

"Meaning that its primary goal is pain and destruction, and it has the ability to change upon itself in order to inflict the most damage."

The lines on her forehead deepened further. For some reason, be it naivety or just plain ignorance, she wasn't catching on to what the man was trying to explain. "It's a torture curse. How much more damage could it possibly do?"

The Potions Master let out a slight sigh. He hadn't prepared for such an in-depth tutorial session this morning and wasn't entirely sure why he was indulging the girl. "When the Cruciatus is cast, it immediately attacks that which the victim is trying the most to protect. In the case of the Longbottoms, for example, all of their efforts were concentrated on concealing information from their tormentors. So when the curse was applied, it centralized on their minds, and it was there that the majority of damage was incurred. Theirs is a rather uncommon affliction, mainly because most people's first instinct is to protect their body. The Longbottoms' illness stands as a testimony, of sorts, to their loyalty to the work of the Order."

Hermione's eyes widened at hearing him speak so highly of Neville's parents. She briefly wondered what the timid boy's reaction would be to learning of Snape's accolades — outright shock or disbelief, more than likely.

"When the curse is applied for an extended amount of time, the effects become permanent," he explained, seemingly unfazed by her reaction. "Now, most victims of the Cruciatus, as you are intimately aware, feel the impact in their nervous and muscular systems. The victims of prolonged exposure suffer from a wide range of maladies including muscle restriction, spasms, and seizures; the aftermath of which leaves them weak and debilitated to varying degrees."

"Wow. I had no idea," she admitted truthfully. She had never heard of any other lasting impact from the Dark curse than that of her classmate's parents. Her personal experience, though insanely painful, had been short lived and the effects had only lasted a few hours. "So that's what this potion is going to cure?"

" _Attempt_ to cure, anyway." He stepped back towards the cauldron. "There've been a staggering number of such complaints since the war and there are undoubtedly more victims who haven't sought help as of yet."

"What kind of treatment has been used on the ones that have?"

"As it stands now, there isn't much that can be done besides pain management, and in severe cases, sedation." Another sigh escaped his lips, this one frustrated and somewhat bitter. "The truth is a large majority of the victims were supporters of the Dark Lord before the war. As such, the Ministry and St. Mungo's haven't bothered to find a permanent solution."

"What? Surely you're joking?" she squeaked in righteous indignation.

He turned to her with raised brow, an expression that seemed to beg the question: _do I look like I'm joking?_ Hermione's cheeks flushed ever-so-slightly in response and she shuffled her feet a bit. "I'm sorry. But that's horrible. No one should have to suffer in that manner if a cure is possible. Don't they have any compassion?"

His mouth curled into an amused smirk. She was such a predictable Gryffindor — always ready to defend the weak and pursue some ideal, and therefore foolish, notion of justice, no matter what the consequences. "Your morals are a bit loftier than the majority of the magical community, Miss Granger."

"It seems yours are as well, Professor," she replied with a smile, gesturing towards the suspended potion.

"My motives are more selfish than you might assume," Severus muttered, turning his back to her yet again. "A longtime acquaintance of mine is a casualty of the curse and I no longer wish to see him suffer from the effects." He frowned at the wall. Why on earth did he tell her that? What was it about this girl that made him behave so out of character?

Hermione's jaw dropped open for the second time that morning. She had never known this man to show any inkling of compassion towards another human being, yet here he was telling her that not only was he trying to cure a horrific illness plaguing the wizarding world, but that the reason behind his efforts were in the service of a friend. It warmed her heart to hear that the caustic wizard did, in fact, possess such benevolent emotions.

She studied his profile for moment, wondering how much more she could question him without being unceremoniously flung from the laboratory. There was one answer that she was dying to know, but she was hesitant to overstep his personal boundaries. He was obviously a very private man, and she had already been privy to far more openness than she ever would've expected from him.

"Who is it, sir?" she asked in a near whisper, when her pesky curiosity proved too much to resist. She decided it'd be better to ask and be berated for it then to never take the chance.

With a flourish of his robes, the Potions Master spun to face her, his obsidian eyes boring into hers as if trying to determine where she got the nerve to ask such an intrusive question. Her hands fidgeted nervously at her sides, but she didn't shy away.

"Lucius Malfoy," he conceded after several moments, his tone cold and almost mournful.

Hermione gasped then quickly covered her mouth with her hand. Whatever name she had been expecting to hear, it certainly wasn't that one.

"The Malfoys are a proud family, Miss Granger. His condition is not something that they want broadcasted to the general public," he said pointedly, trying to corral some of the damage his loose lips had caused. He'd be damned if the wizard's anguish became fodder for the Gryffindor rumor mill.

"Yes, sir. Of course." She didn't need his warning to know that this revelation wasn't to leave the room. She did, however, feel a sudden stab of sympathy for Draco. Narcissa Malfoy had been killed shortly before the fall of Voldemort and now his father was apparently a near-invalid. No matter how big a prat he was, the boy didn't deserve that.

Severus watched the various emotions play across the girl's face for a moment before conjuring a wooden stool with his wand. She had always possessed more maturity and altogether trustworthiness than the other members of her famous little clique. "Sit," he commanded in soft tone.

Hermione quickly did as she was told and watched as the Slytherin opened one of the drawers of the workstation, extracting a black leather-bound journal and equally black quill. He turned back to her.

"May I presume that your curiosity has been squelched for the time being?"

Her cheeks flushed as she nodded.

"Good. I'd like to make at least some _attempt_ at brewing today." He handed her the newly-acquired items. "I believe we'll put your proficient note-taking abilities to work while I concentrate on the potion."

She nodded and opened the blank journal before glancing up at him questioningly. "Do you have any ink?"

Snape stepped closer to her and pointed his wand at the quill. The Head Girl held her breath in response to his proximity as he muttered the short incantation. Shamefully, her traitorous brain registered that he smelled rather nice.

"You should find that satisfactory." He stepped back to the cauldron and lifted the Stasis spell. "Shall we begin?"

"Yes, sir," she replied enthusiastically. Despite the serious mood that had overtaken their conversation, she was quite excited to witness such an experiment, especially under such talented hands.

Over the next several hours, Hermione filled more than two dozen pages with her cramped writing, completely forgetting about her previous hope of meeting her friends in Hogsmeade. As he worked, the professor thoroughly described each of the potion's components and his reasons for choosing every ingredient. She didn't know if the in-depth explanation was for her benefit or the record she was writing, but she was totally riveted nonetheless.

From her vantage point, she was also able to admire the Potions Master's skill more closely than she ever had in the classroom. It wasn't often that he brewed during their lessons — he preferred to dish out instructions and then prowl amongst them like a vulture waiting for the carnage to commence — but it was obvious that he truly possessed a gift for the subtle art and science behind the craft. The evident enjoyment written across his features gave him a pleasant, peaceful sort of air, and his long, slender fingers that glided deftly over the various herbs soon had her slipping into a trance-like fascination.

It was late in the afternoon by the time Snape cast another protective spell over the cauldron and lowered the magical flame, causing Hermione to look up questioningly.

"It needs to simmer for a week," he explained quietly as he began to put away the unused ingredients.

She nodded and penned the last line of her notes before standing up, placing the journal on the stool, and stretching her cramped muscles. Being ever mindful not to disrupt the comfortable truce between them, she kept her mouth closed and helped him clean up the laboratory.

Once everything was put away, the Slytherin wordlessly led her out of the lab and back through his office. Then, after what seemed like a slight hesitation on his part, escorted her up the dungeon corridor. Whether this was done out of chivalry or to insure that he was well shot of her, she didn't know. Either way, it was weird, walking side-by-side with him through the nearly-deserted school, but the elation she felt from spending the day in his company far outweighed any residual awkwardness.

When they reached the marble Entrance Hall, Snape stopped and glanced down at the top of the witch's curly head. Her assistance had proved time saving and deserved some sort of recognition, but it wasn't a regular occurrence for him to express gratitude towards a student, especially one that he had shown such disdain for in the past. Still he knew the proper thing to do was to try. He cleared his throat. "Thank you for your assistance today, Miss Granger. It was... acceptable."

Hermione looked up, met his gaze, and gave him a bright smile. He was utter rubbish when it came to compliments, but he had made the effort and, for her, that was enough. "You're quite welcome, Professor Snape. Thank you for the experience."

Without another word, he turned and stalked back towards the dungeons, his robes billowing artfully behind him. The Head Girl shook her head slightly as she watched him disappear into the shadows. Her grand plan for the day had been simultaneously wildly successful and a spectacular failure. Hermione pulled open the castle doors and headed out into the sunshine, hoping that a walk around the lake would help her organize the thoughts that were now racing at a breakneck pace through her head.

When her friends finally returned from Hogsmeade later that afternoon, she needed to only reiterate her earlier fib about studying all day to deter them from asking too many questions. But while she feigned interest in the various tales of the day's escapades, her pesky conscience kept urging her to tell them the truth. It wasn't like she and Snape were doing anything scandalous — outside of her own fantasies, at least — but for some reason, she found that she didn't want them to know.

Hermione had never been one to keep anything from her best friends. They knew all her secrets, all her ambitions, everything — everything, that is, except for anything that had to do with the dark and intriguing Slytherin. Part of her reasoned that she hadn't told them because they wouldn't understand, _couldn't_ understand, her desire to be around a man they hated. There was also the fact that the professor hadn't given her permission to tell anyone about the potion, the information he had shared, or even the discussions they had had during her detentions. When it came down to it, though, Hermione knew that those were just excuses and weak ones at that.

The truth was she liked having a secret from her friends. She liked the fact that after seven years of being together, Harry and Ron were clueless about something that had become increasingly important to her. Her now-admitted crush on the snarky Potions Master and their hours spent alone felt like a dirty little secret and the rebellious wildcat in her, the one that was never allowed out to play, reveled in every intoxicatingly wicked moment of it.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

The following week passed by quickly enough. Despite her previous suspicion that Snape might've finally rethought his ridiculous behavior over the weekend, Hermione received two more detentions. The first had been due to her being literally half a second late for Monday's class and the second because he had caught her reading a library book at the lunch table. This, of course, had never been against school rules but she was past arguing legitimacy with him by that point. She was just thankful that the boys had missed that particular altercation having already left the Great Hall to retrieve Harry's forgotten Transfiguration essay from the common room.

Both evenings in the dungeons were quite honestly, disappointing, consisting only of silently grading essays. The older wizard didn't mention the Cruciatus potion or the hours they had spent together the past Saturday once. She had fervently hoped that after his frankness in the laboratory he'd at least talk to her during these so-called detentions but such optimistic thinking had proved utterly fruitless. By the end of the second evening, she had come dangerously close to goading the man into an argument just to get some kind of reaction out of him but chickened out at the last minute. She thoroughly chastised herself later for being such a coward.

Hermione also spent an inordinate amount of time keeping a closer eye on Draco Malfoy than she had in years. For the first time that semester, she was thankful that his N.E.W.T course schedule was nearly identical to her own. Most of the time, when surrounded by his usual group of Slytherins — they seemed to go everywhere these days in a tightly cloistered pack — the blond seemed like his normal arrogant self but whenever he thought no one was looking, his cavalier facade would slip to reveal an older, more weary version. She had never taken the time to notice before but now that she did it was obvious that the boy's family issues were taking their toll. Despite six years of hatred on both their parts, Hermione found herself feeling a mixture of pity and concern for the pure-blood prat.

* * *

After Potions class on Friday, Hermione told her best friend to go on ahead of her, claiming that she needed to ask Snape a question about the homework the professor had set them for the weekend. This was another lie, of course. She likely could've written the essay in her sleep but there _was_ something she wanted to discuss with the Potions Master and she certainly couldn't do it in front of Harry. The lies were really starting to pile up and the guilt of adding on another fell like a leaden stone in her stomach.

Harry's green eyes sparkled with apprehension at the thought of leaving her with her would-be tormentor but after a beseeching smile, he nodded and abandoned her to her fate.

Once the rest of her classmates had filed out after the Seeker, Hermione drew a deep breath and silently approached the large desk at the front of the room. She stared down at the occupant's bowed head for a moment and carefully considered what it was she wanted to say. The Cruciatus potion would be finishing it's week long incubation period the following morning. She desperately wanted to watch the second part of the brewing process but knew better than to hope that Snape would suggest it. Still, he hadn't seemed that put off by her presence the last time. He had even thanked her for her help, in his own snarky way. Logically, Hermione reasoned, if she were to play her cards just right he might allow her to return.

"What is it, Miss Granger?" Snape asked in a clipped tone without looking up from the parchment he was marking.

She briefly wondered how he had known she was there — she hadn't made a sound — but quickly eliminated the urge to ask. Obviously, the man hadn't been a spy for nothing. "I'm sorry to disturb you, sir. I just wanted to know if you could use my assistance with your research project again tomorrow."

He looked up at her, his blank mask in place and his eyes dark and calculating. Hermione despised the way her treacherous stomach fluttered inappropriately in response to this intense gaze, the guilt from only moments before completely forgotten. She slowly counted to ten in her head, willing the feeling to cease, and kept her eyes locked on his. Now was not the time to be cowed into an examination of her shoes.

After a moment of heavy scrutiny, the professor's eyes seem to soften by the slightest degree and he sighed. "I may but the same rules from last week will apply. The final brewing phase will be crucial. If the potion fails to cohere, I'll be forced to start back at the beginning and I have no desire to do that."

She gave him a quick nod of understanding. She would eat one of Ron's Quidditch helmets before risking the Potions Master's research or causing him additional work. Internally she was overjoyed that the man had acquiesced so easily. In formulating this particular request early that morning, Hermione had assumed it would take quite a bit more groveling to get him to agree.

"I plan to begin brewing at eight o'clock sharp," Snape continued. "If you wish to assist then you'll need to be in my office no later than seven forty-five."

Her face bloomed with a grin, so eagerly anticipating the prospect she could hardly contain her glee. "I'll be there."

He nodded and dropped his attention back down to his task. Correctly reading the cue for dismissal, Hermione readjusted her book sack on her shoulder and promptly left the dungeon classroom, not bothering to wipe the insanely pleased expression off her face.

After the door clicked shut, Severus glanced up and shook his head, marveling at the witch's bravado and his own uncharacteristic indulgence. Why on earth had he agreed to allow her to interrupt his work with her presence _for the second time_? Worried that he was losing his edge, he scrawled a particularly nasty comment on top of the essay he was currently grading and then moved on to the next. Needless to say, the fifth year Ravenclaw class would be none too pleased with his efforts come Monday.

* * *

Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon with her friends, endeavoring to get the weekend's homework done early despite their protests. It had always been a chore to convince Harry and Ron to study but it seemed even harder now that she seriously needed to get her work completed. She had no idea how long Snape's potion project would take the following day and she refused to get behind on her other duties because she hadn't planned appropriately. She had also yet to tell the boys the truth about her whereabouts the previous Saturday and now she was faced with trying to conceal another prolonged excursion to the dungeons.

Regardless of her desire to be caught up before the end of the night, the Head Girl finally conceded defeat after the third attempt at the same essay and pushed her books away with a heavy sigh. She had completed everything else, though maybe not as neatly or well thought out as she'd normally do. For once, the allure of school work wasn't able to distract her from the rest of her overcrowded thoughts. Too many other things were simultaneously exciting and worrying her to put in her usual hundred and ten percent effort.

The remainder of the evening dwindled away as Hermione half-heartedly watched Ron defeat Harry in wizard's chess over and over again while chatting with Ginny. At least half of her focus at any given moment had been struggling to concoct a credible excuse for her planned absence the next day — something other than the truth that she'd be mooning over the bat of the dungeons while he created a cure for a notorious, blood-prejudice Death Eater. The only thing she actually succeeded in was giving herself a headache.

By the time she dragged herself up the tower steps that night to an impatiently waiting, neglected half-Kneazle, it was well after midnight and Hermione still hadn't decided what to tell Ginny and the boys. She pulled her nightgown over her head and tucked herself under the duvet, hoping that inspiration would, once again, come to her during the night.

* * *

Early the next morning, the alarm clock rudely woke Hermione from a magnificent dream. She hadn't been graced by an inspired solution to her dilemma but she was treated to a rather vivid and inappropriate alternative to the uses of the Potions Master's skilled fingers and cool marble workstation tucked away in an obscure recess of the castle's dungeons.

"Merlin," she muttered as she silenced the incessant alarm and pushed back her blankets. Those images certainly weren't going to make the day any easier.

After a moment of entirely selfish recollection, she stored the memory away and forced herself out of bed. It was nearly seven and she knew firsthand that Snape wouldn't tolerate tardiness. She would not squander this opportunity just to languish in bed with naughty thoughts.

Once ready, she passed through the deserted common room on her way to the Great Hall. There were very few students up so early on a Saturday and Hermione ate alone at her usual end of the Gryffindor table. Even the staff table was hardly occupied. She wasn't entirely surprised to see a familiar blond Slytherin across the dining room, alone and picking at his breakfast, but she was a bit taken aback by the smudged shadows under his eyes and the distressed lines marring his normally handsome features. Apparently, she wasn't the only one that had had a long night.

As she covertly studied the Head Boy over her bowl of cereal, a distraction in the form of Neville Longbottom sat down in front of her, obscuring her view. She didn't mind the intrusion or the company and smiled at him.

"Mornin', Hermione," the boy said in greeting, reaching for the pitcher of pumpkin juice.

"Good morning, Neville. What are you doing up so early?"

He grinned brightly. "Professor Sprout is letting me help her plant Devil's Snare seedlings this morning."

"Oh, wow! That sounds exciting," she gushed, experiencing a small but nonetheless real pang of jealousy at the idea. The slightly clumsy wizard had finally found something that he was truly good at and she knew he had been assisting the Herbology teacher with a lot of extracurricular activities this year in hopes that she'd sign him on as an apprentice after graduation.

"Yeah, I can't wait!" He scooped some scrambled eggs onto his plate and chose a piece of toast from the carousel. "So, what are you up to?"

Suddenly Hermione realized that she was face to face with the solution that she had been looking for. Well, maybe not a technical _solution_ but a placeholder at least. She leveled with the wizard. "I'm actually working on a project myself this morning. In fact, I could really use your help with something."

The Neville of years past might've been puzzled by this, wondering what anyone could possibly need _his_ help with, but things were different now. He was reasonably smart, moderately talented, and a Gryffindor, damn it! He had quite a bit to offer, not least his ability to be a helpful and understanding friend. "Sure. What is it?"

Hermione took a bite of her cereal and considered her options. She didn't want to drop another lie, especially if she didn't need to. A vague version of the truth would suffice. "If you see Harry, Ron, or Ginny today, could you tell them that I had some work to take care of?"

Neville swallowed his pumpkin juice. "I doubt that I'll see them before lunch because of the Devil's Snare, but I can tell them then if that helps."

She smiled again and nodded. "That's fine. I just don't want them to worry and I sort of forgot to tell them last night."

His eyebrow quirked up in interest, not believing for a moment that the Head Girl was capable of _accidentally_ forgetting anything. Something was surely afoot. He was accustomed to his classmates acting on some sort of plan or another, usually involving secretive or illegal aspects, but he wasn't used to seeing the trio holding secrets amongst themselves. "What are you really going to be doing?"

Hermione smirked. The wizard wasn't nearly as clueless as most people assumed. She had suspected for years that he simply encouraged that misconception for his own benefit. It was a sound strategy, really. No one ever suspects the underdog. Still, she wasn't about to spill her guts to him.

"Research, more or less," she hedged. "Nothing nefarious, I assure you, but I'd rather not discuss the details with everyone just yet."

Neville nodded indulgently. Knowing the brainy witch, it was probably something brilliant that he wouldn't understand entirely anyway. "Okay, Hermione. I'll cover for you."

She chuckled before her watch chirped, alerting her to the time. She took one last bite of her breakfast and smiled at her table mate, so relieved that he had joined her that morning. "I'd better be going."

"Well, good luck with whatever you're doing," Neville said through a mouthful of toast as she made to get up from the table.

The sight of the crumbs falling on the boy's robes sparked an idea and the Head Girl quickly sat back down. She selected several slices of assorted toast from the center carousel and brusquely wrapped them up in a napkin and tucked them into the pocket of her robes before standing up again. "Thanks, Neville. Good luck with the Devil's Snare."

With a quick parting smile, she left the Great Hall and set off towards the dungeons, massively relieved to have covered her bases without another lie. When she reached Snape's office door, she checked her watch again and was also happy to see that she was on time — a bit early, even. She smoothed out her robes before quietly tapping on the door. The excitement was finally beginning to eclipse the anxiety.

The Potions Master's deep baritone filtered out into the hall. "Enter."

Hermione pushed the door open and stepped inside, smiling brightly at the dour man's bowed head behind the desk. "Good morning, Professor."

Snape completely ignored her cheerful greeting and continued to scrawl into the open journal in front of him. It was a moment before she realized that he was writing in the same book she had used the previous week but then immediately suspected that he was correcting the notes she had meticulously taken. He didn't seem capable of resisting the urge to find fault with her work, even when it was volunteered instead of assigned. Annoyance flared in her eyes before registering the absence of her own handwriting. He wasn't correcting her after all, merely adding his own thoughts to the pile. She felt a tiny fleeting twinge of guilt at assuming the worst but waved it away. It had been a completely reasonable assumption given the man in question.

After trying in vain to decipher his spiky script upside down, she reached into her pocket, removed the bundle of toast, and gently sat it down on an inconspicuous corner of his desk. The scratching of the quill stopped seemingly mid-sentence as the wizard's eyes darted to the addition of his desk decor.

"Are you under the impression that you must come bearing gifts every time you enter my office?" Snape asked, glancing up at her with an arched eyebrow. His tone wasn't unpleasant as much as curious.

"No, sir," Hermione replied. "I noticed that you weren't at breakfast this morning, at least not while I was there, and thought you might be a bit peckish." She unwrapped the napkin and showed him its contents.

He glanced down at the toast then back at her dispassionately. "I assure you that I'm perfectly capable of summoning my own nourishment, Miss Granger."

Her cheeks flushed at her impetuous, foolish, yet honestly well-meaning offer and hastily wrapped the bundle back up and stuffed it into her pocket. "Yes. I'm sorry. I…erm… was just trying to be nice."

"How very _Gryffindor_ of you," he drawled, smirking at the flash of contempt responding in her chocolate eyes. What _had_ she been thinking?

Snape focused back on his notes and unapologetically resumed his task. As the scratching sound of the quill tip filled the room again, Hermione huffed irritably and sat down in the chair across from him. He was so damn frustrating! If she tried her absolute best, he belittled her effort. If she attempted to show concern or, you know, _human decency,_ he mocked her for it. But if she lost her temper and snapped back at him, he acted amused — well, sometimes anyway. Did the man only know how to respond graciously to his own type of abrasive behavior?

After nearly ten minutes of silence, Severus haphazardly dotted the last sentence of his notes, splattering droplets of black ink across the page, before spelling the words dry with a flick of his wand and closing the journal. He glanced up to find the Head Girl waiting more patiently than he would have thought possible. If not for her soft inhale and exhales, he might've forgotten she was there. She was a surprising little creature. Half of the time he couldn't shut her up even with herculean effort but at other times, she seemed to recognize his _need_ for silence and observe it without command. He was positive she was no longer afraid of him, as most his pupils were, but she was more considerate of his solemn nature, despite what he claimed. Filing those thoughts away to ponder at a later time, he stood from his chair and held out the book to the witch. With a dramatic flair of his robes, he led her once again through the warded archway that led to his prized sanctuary.

When they re-entered the laboratory, the dream that Hermione had had the night before hit her full force, nearly stealing the breath from her lungs. Her pulse quickened and she hurriedly reclaimed her position on the wooden stool as images of what their nocturnal counterparts had done in that very space floated through her head. With slightly shaking hands, she flipped open the journal and focused on the professor's notes. He hadn't given her permission to read what he had written but she figured it was a far better option than to allow her fantasies to overcome her in his presence.

Unaware of his assistant's turmoil, Snape retrieved the charmed quill from a drawer and turned to hand it back to the girl. He stopped mid-spin when he caught her flushed complexion and agitated composure. "Miss Granger, are you quite alright?"

Hermione's eyes darted up and the color on her cheeks flared, finding the object of the unbidden and currently-unwanted images staring at her coolly. She gulped. "Yes, sir. I'm fine."

His dark eyes narrowed on her and she instinctively slammed down her somewhat flimsy Occlumency walls. She was obviously well aware that the man was a Legilimens and the last thing she needed was for him to see what was running rampant through her mind at that moment. Never breaking eye contact, the wizard stalked towards her, closing the distance between them and causing Hermione's already accelerated heart rate to beat furiously against her ribs. Surely he could hear the thunderous pound of it.

Snape thrust the quill into her hand and spun around, walking away once again. "Then let's get started, shall we?"

Hermione let out the breath that she had been unconsciously holding in one explosive burst. She knew he had to of heard that as well. Bloody _freaking_ hell. She was going to need a Calming Draught to make it out of there alive.

Heedless or ignorant of her state, Snape began to set up for the brew. Mesmerized by the way he floated around the room, collecting ingredients and equipment, her discomfort slowly began to ebb away. In his element, the wizard really was a sight to behold. When he spoke again, it was in a quiet, almost reverent tone as he explained the ingredients he was so meticulously preparing. Hermione wrote down every word he said and nodded along with his conclusions as to why this component or that had been chosen. Every aspect of this project had been planned with excruciating precision.

The second phase of brewing was more intense than the previous week's had been. The potion needed almost constant stirring in between the myriad of ingredients that had to be administered at specific intervals. The room was sweltering from the steam issuing from the simmering liquid and the palpable tension in the air. When a trickle of sweat meandered its way down the small of her back, Hermione sat the journal and quill down on the countertop and removed her outer school robes, folding the heavy material neatly and setting it upon one of the unused workstations. She was infinitely grateful that she had worn a short-sleeved T-shirt once free of the cumbersome uniform, but without a breeze in the dungeon laboratory, a fine layer of perspiration soon peppered her brow.

A small groan escaped her throat when the first small droplet of sweat fell upon the journal page in her lap, smearing the black ink. "Professor?"

Severus turned to look at the girl as he stirred the cauldron, rhythmically counting the revolutions in his head. He had to blink several times in rapid succession when he noticed her change in attire. It was most assuredly the first time that _pink_ had ever invaded this space in all its hundreds of years of existence. He swallowed the curious and uncomfortable lump in his throat and decided not to comment.

She swiped the back of her hand across her forehead. "Will it disturb anything if I use a Cooling Charm?"

His surprisingly-dry brow creased sharply and he cast a quick Stasis over the cauldron. "Good Gods, witch, are you telling me that you haven't cast a Cooling Charm on yourself yet? Have you taken complete leave of your senses? It must be a hundred degrees in here!"

If her cheeks weren't already red from the heat, she would have blushed again at his exclamation. "I... I didn't know if magic would react badly with anything down here and I didn't want to complain since you obviously weren't having a problem."

"I never start brewing without casting a strong Cooling Charm on myself," he replied, voice laced with distinct exasperation. "Do you have any idea the amount of damage human perspiration can do to a potion?"

Hermione scowled, bristling at his demeaning tone. "Yes, _sir_ , I do, but seeing as I'm not actually anywhere near the potion, I don't see how that's an issue." She huffed in annoyance, extracted her wand from her folded robes, and swished it through the vapor-laden air in front of her, sighing in relief as her body temperature immediately dropped to a reasonable level.

She glared at the man. "You don't have to bark at me either. I was just trying to not blow up your research or your lab."

His dark eyes narrowed for a second before he turned back to the potion with a slight scowl and removed the charm from the fixed liquid. The optimistic witch chose to take his lack of response as an apology or as close to one as she'd ever receive from the taciturn wizard. Again, he had only responded courteously once she had snapped at him in irritation. Regardless she silently congratulated herself for putting him in his grouchy place.

It was early afternoon before their once-again semi-comfortable alliance was disrupted again. Hermione was detailing her observations on the elixir's color and odor when Snape cast another Stasis Charm over the potion. She glanced up curiously, just in time to see the wizard conjure a second stool across from her and sit down, worry lines creasing his forehead. She regarded him quietly for a moment, taking note of his sharp cheekbones, thin lips, and the subtle sheen of his lank hair. She had always assumed that his unappealing locks were just oily from constantly hanging over a cauldron instead of believing, as the rest of her classmates did, that his hygiene was questionable. Being burdened with less than manageable hair herself, she didn't like to place judgment on such things. Upon closer inspection now, the admittedly greasy strands also appeared incredibly fine and possibly quite soft. Her traitorous mind began to wonder how his hair, so dark that it was nearly blue in tint, would feel between her fingers... or grazing across her bare skin.

Trying to deter that line of rather dangerous thinking, she cleared her throat shakily and asked, "What's the matter?"

"It's almost complete," he replied in a near whisper, still staring at the simmering liquid. "But something's missing — one final ingredient to ensure cohesion. I haven't been able to pinpoint a catalyst in my planning and had hoped that in brewing the recipe to this point, the solution would come to me." He scowled and glanced over at her. "Obviously, I was mistaken."

"Oh," she said quietly, her overactive mental wheels starting to spin. She hadn't really realized that this experiment was so…experimental until now. He had been carrying on so self-assuredly, like he was certain of the outcome. She hadn't suspected that he might not be in complete and utter control of the progress.

They both sat in silent contemplation for several minutes, mentally going over all the components in use and the delicate balance they weaved, before Hermione felt her stomach growl uncomfortably. They had missed lunch completely and the tiny amount of breakfast she had consumed felt like a lifetime ago. She dug into the pockets of her still discarded robes and withdrew the bundle of toast that had been rejected earlier. Opening the package on her lap, she selected a slice of rye and took a bite, taking pains to contain any errant crumbs in the confines of the napkin.

As she chewed, she peeked over at the professor's bowed head again, somewhat surprised that he hadn't berated her immediately for daring to eat in his lab. Taking the chance that he might just be as famished as she was, seeing as he hadn't eaten all day either, she carefully gathered the napkin-wrapped bread in her hand and held it out to him.

Severus glanced at the toast and then up at the brazen little Gryffindor, who shrugged innocently. He sighed softly and looked back at the offered snack before choosing a wedge of multigrain and giving it an inconspicuous sniff. It was hardly unusual for him to go long periods without eating while he was working on a project. Before the final battle, he had gone _days_ without sustenance as he tried to brew enough medicinal potions to stock the Hospital Wing for any possible wartime eventuality. But now that this slip of a witch mentioned it, he was a tad hungry. Damn if her little ploy to feed him hadn't paid off for her in the end despite his earlier rebuff. "Thank you," he muttered before taking a tentative bite.

Feeling like they had just passed a small yet significant hurdle, Hermione smiled and began to happily flip through the pages of notes in the Potions journal while she nibbled her own piece of toast. Every problem had a workable solution. It was a fact that she lived her life by. Certain solutions might be so obscure that it was nearly impossible to find them but that didn't mean they didn't exist. And she didn't believe the one they needed was any different. In fact, she didn't think it would even be that arcane. Sure the Potions Master had been researching in vain for two years but that only meant he had a whole list of things he knew _wouldn't_ work. They just needed to stumble across one that would.

The room endured several more minutes of silence before an idea presented itself to the Head Girl so abruptly that it nearly felt alien in her mind. She quickly turned back through the pages of cramped handwriting, searching for confirmation of the theory that was rapidly forming. Would it work? Could it be that simple? She wouldn't say anything until she could be sure.

A triumphant grin spread across her features when she found the correct passage. She thought the excitement would bubble out of her mouth along with the question. "What about Monkshood oil?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Snape replied in distracted annoyance, plucking another triangle of bread from the pile on her lap. "Monkshood oil is poisonous if consumed."

"Normally, yes, but I read an article several months ago about an American master who was able to successfully combine Monkshood with Mandrake." Her face scrunched up in thought. "If I remember correctly, he was trying to alter the Mandrake Restorative Draught to work on petrified trees but that's irrelevant. The point is that the properties of the Mandrake counterbalanced the poison in his experiments and the base of your potion is made from Mandrake root."

Severus turned towards her, this witch, this child that had been annoying him with her endless memorized knowledge for seven years now. His mouth was slightly agape. "That... could work," he breathed. He could remember perusing the very same article some time ago, though he hadn't paid it much attention at the time. Who'd want to restore trees that had been petrified for thousands of years anyway? It didn't hold any real scientific bearing or so he had thought at the time. But now the technique could, in fact, be exactly what he had been looking for so long.

"The properties of the Monkshood would effectively fuse the other ingredients," he thought out loud.

Hermione nodded enthusiastically. "And, along with the peppermint extract, it'd also act as a muscle relaxant."

The Potions Master leapt up from his stool and quickly crossed the room to the many shelves of stored ingredients. He scanned the containers and chose a small vial of murky brown oil. "Miss Granger, I do believe you're correct. Let's see, shall we?"

Hermione hastily placed the items from her lap onto his abandoned stool and jumped up to join the wizard at the marble workstation, anxiety and excitement combining forces to elevate her heart rate once again. She watched with bated breath as he scribbled down a complex Arithmancy equation to calculate the correct amount of oil to use before gingerly uncorking the small vial.

"Please remove the Stasis Charm," he directed, opening one of the drawers and pulling out an eye dropper.

She quickly dismantled the ward and watched as the wizard added five carefully-measured drops of oil into the cauldron. Her hands shook nervously as he picked up the glass stirring rod, slipped it into the dark green liquid at a forty-five-degree angle, and proceeded to make three precise counterclockwise rotations.

As the Potions Master withdrew the clear utensil, the potion accelerated to an almost violent rolling boil on its own accord. After a moment of furious churning, it issued a single plume of acrid smoke with an audible pop and then turned a vivid lime-green color before returning to a gentle simmer. Hermione's eyes darted from the cauldron to the man beside her. His normal, expressionless mask faltered long enough for pure shock to register on his dour features.

"That looked promising," Snape murmured, mostly to himself it seemed and then began to pass his wand over the cauldron to assess the potion's stability.

Tension so thick that she felt she might choke on it settled in dungeon laboratory as she tracked the professor's hands. He systematically performed every diagnostic spell she knew of and a few she didn't. She couldn't entirely determine what the results were but she hoped against hope that they were positive.

"It worked," he breathed, a few seemingly endless minutes later. His voice was so low she might have missed it if they hadn't been standing so close. It was as if he believed a louder declaration might jinx his words.

Hermione's reaction was the complete opposite and she could do nothing to prevent it. "You did it, Professor! That was amazing! I can't believe it actually worked!"

"Nor can I," he replied, still looking rather flabbergasted by the success.

"I read about these experimental techniques and hypotheses all the time, you know?" she babbled, forgetting about his extreme dislike for her chatter in the face of such a victory. "But I never thought... I mean, wow. It was like watching the creation of the polio vaccine or the first open heart surgery. Utterly incredible."

Severus wasn't entirely sure what the witch was gibbering about in all honesty. Something to do with Muggle medicine, he deduced. But her enthusiasm was amusing. People didn't express such emotions around him often. "It appears that, for once, your boundless know-it-all-ism has proved beneficial."

She stopped bobbing on the balls of her feet long enough to study his expression. Was that a smile trying to creep across his lips? Was he complimenting her memory or insulting her again? Was that glint in his eyes sinister in nature or animated? Unsure if she truly wanted to know the answer right then, she simply nodded. "I'm just glad the Monkshood worked."

He turned away from her, on the pretense of locating a large flask to collect the potion in, before quietly responding, "As am I." She deserved more praise than that, he knew, but couldn't quite bring himself to give it. Compliments, at least those delivered without scorn, had never been his strong suit.

As the wizard busied himself with bottling the potion, Hermione returned to her stool and picked up the Potions journal to include the addition of the final ingredient and the results they received in her notes. By the time she was satisfied with her final entry, Professor Snape had the lime-green liquid put away and was beginning to restore his work area to its former meticulously-clean state.

She closed the journal, set it aside, and drew her wand to vanish the remaining slices of toast, the napkin, and the crumbs that had fallen on the floor in their earlier haste. Her astonishment had yet to fully abate and her continual curiosity couldn't be dissuaded, even though silence had fallen between them once again. "So, what's the next step, Professor?"

He scoured the dirty cauldron with a flick of his wrist and set it back on the proper shelf. "It will need to be tested, obviously. The assessment charms can only tell us that the ingredients are properly combined and that the potion is both stable and non-lethal. Its actual effectiveness is thus far only a hypothesis. It'll need to be administered before success can be determined."

She nodded, immediately assuming that Malfoy Senior would be the test subject — it had been created for his benefit, after all. The thought of testing an unproven cure suddenly seemed quite daunting. What if it didn't work? What if it made matters worse? She joined the dark-haired man at the workstation to assist with the cleanup. "When will you be testing it?"

"As soon as possible. I will be contacting Lucius right away and see if he's available tomorrow."

She nodded again and began to hand him the glass jars to be replaced on the storage shelves. Once all of the ingredients were back in precise alphabetic order, he cleaned the cutting board and Potions utensils and put them away. Hermione crossed the room and put her robes back on before vanishing the two stools. She looked around the room to see if they had missed anything and felt a twinge of melancholy to see that the room looked exactly as it had before they had entered that morning. There was no sign that the day's incredible events had even taken place. More depressing still was the fact that until he deemed to assign her detention again, she no longer had an excuse to spend time with the Slytherin.

When he was sure that his lab was once again pristine, Severus collected the nearly-full journal and took a moment to consider his assistant. She had proved to be more of an asset than he had originally anticipated. If it hadn't been for her impressive retention of seemingly random and useless information, it probably would have taken him weeks, if not months, to find the solution on his own. He studied the back of her curly head for several moments, contemplating his next move, before asking, "If Lucius is available tomorrow, would you care to come and observe, Miss Granger?"

The girl spun around and gaped at him in surprise. "Really? You'd allow me to?"

He smirked at her expression. "I wouldn't have asked otherwise."

She continued to stare at him, finding herself truly speechless for probably the first time in her life. Remus' earlier assumptions as to the Potions master's behavior echoed through her head in her silence. Why else would he offer her such an opportunity? What other motive could there be? It's not as if she had any claim to the potions success or failure.

When she didn't reply, Severus sighed inwardly. Perhaps he had tripped the young witch one too many times this year. She didn't seem to know whether or not to believe his assurance. He'd have to try for a bit of candidness. "You contributed to the potion. It only seems fitting that you should attend its administration. However, if you have no desire to do so, then rest assured that I shall manage without you." There was a twinge of irritation attached to his last words. The little chit should be grateful, damn it.

His tone seemed to jolt her brain into functioning again and Hermione shook her head. "No, sir. You just surprised me. I would really like to see it tested."

His tense posture relaxed somewhat, though he couldn't determine why he was relieved by her acceptance. He was surely going to regret the invitation, burden as it was to take a student anywhere off ground, especially, he assumed, this particular student. "Very well then. I'll speak with the headmaster and get permission for you to leave the castle. The experiment will have to be conducted at Malfoy Manor as Lucius isn't well enough to travel."

This realization caused an uneasy frown to mar her lips. As much as she wanted to witness an experiment of this magnitude, she couldn't imagine that sort of trip going well. Lucius Malfoy was probably the singularly most prejudice wizard she had ever had the misfortune to meet. She could still remember the way he sneered at her as a child simply because of her heritage. And the way he had treated Dobby! Going to the pure-blood's home, even under the protection of Snape, sounded like a foolish errand indeed. "In that case, sir, maybe I shouldn't go. I don't think Mr. Malfoy would be very appreciative of me tagging along. He's never liked me. Or my blood."

Snape scowled darkly but Hermione got the impression that it wasn't directed towards her. "There'll be no need to worry about that, Miss Granger, I assure you."

She nodded, feeling oddly comforted by his words, but not entirely convinced. Without further discussion, however, Snape led her out of the lab and, like the previous week, all the way back to the Entrance Hall. Unfortunately this time the stone corridors weren't nearly as deserted and they passed several Slytherins on their way, each of whom stared at the pair with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. The Head Girl kept her head hung low and her eyes downcast, hoping they'd assume she was in trouble with the Potions professor again, until they reached the castle's entrance.

"Once everything's been confirmed, I'll get word to you as to our departure time," Snape murmured, his tone low enough not to attract the attention of the other students.

She smiled up at him graciously. "Thank you, Professor." He gave her a curt nod in reply before striding off back in the direction of the dungeons, robes billowing as they were want to do.

Hermione quickly climbed the marble staircase, grinning from ear to ear and plotting her next move. The day had gone spectacularly well and she was eagerly anticipating the next one but first, she had to deal with the more immediate problem of a certain raven-haired hero. Not only did she still need an alibi for today's whereabouts but how on Earth was she supposed to explain leaving the castle with Snape tomorrow? Her need for evasiveness had suddenly become infinitely more complex.

To her immense relief, the common room was nearly empty when she entered through the portrait hole. In the absence of her best friends, Hermione summoned her book sack from her room and made herself comfortable on the vacant sofa. Ignoring her dilemma for the time being, she attempted once again to work on her homework but found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the Troll Wars of 1842 with the day's events replaying over and over again in her head.

Nearly two hours after she had arrived in the common room, Harry, Ron, and Ginny emerged from the portrait hole, all three of them laughing and carrying racing brooms, looking thoroughly windswept. When they spotted the bushy-haired witch behind a stack of textbooks, they hurried over.

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed as he plopped down on the sofa beside her. "Where have you been all day?"

Ginny squeezed in between them while Ron slumped down in one of the overstuffed armchairs.

"That's a dumb question, mate," the freckle-faced wizard said. "You know she had her nose stuck in a book for hours on end." He shook his head morosely. "Imagine, wasting a beautiful day like today in the library."

Hermione smirked, feeling an instant rush of relief. They hadn't even bothered to find out that she hadn't stepped foot in the library all day and thus had effectively eliminated her need to lie. There was definitely something to be said for presumptions.

"And flying all day was a better use of your time?" she teased, already knowing the answer.

"It certainly was," Ginny said with a happy sigh. Both of the boys grinned and nodded in agreement.

The Head Girl rolled her eyes. "I don't suppose you all want to work on homework before dinner, do you?"

Their resounding "No!" made her giggle and she shut her History of Magic book with a snap. With the immediate crisis averted, she didn't feel much like studying either. Besides, there was entirely too much else to look forward to.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Dinner that night passed by in a whirlwind of detached chatter and the clinking of dishes. Hermione picked at her food in silence, her mind too preoccupied with thoughts of the following day to pay much attention to the conversations around her. Her mood varied as much as the courses that appeared on the table, ranging from astonishment at being invited to bear witness to such a monumental experiment, to nervous excitement at the thought of spending time away from the school with Professor Snape, and then to near paralyzing anxiety at being in Lucius Malfoy's presence again.

At the moment, the last emotion was winning out. Snape had told her not to worry about the aristocrat's prejudices but it wasn't so easy to forget about the hatred she had been confronted with each and every time she had been face to face with Malfoy Senior. She also couldn't just gloss over what he had put her and her friends through in the bowels of the Ministry two years ago. Whenever she had nightmares of that night, it was Lucius' pale, pointed face and flaxen hair that was always in the foreground.

Hermione's brow creased as she speared a broccoli floret with her fork and took a bite. Now that she thought about it that had been the last time she had seen the elder Malfoy in person. It was a well-known fact that he had been one of the prisoners to escape during Azkaban's second mass break out the previous year but the blond had been conspicuously missing in the final battle. After the smoke had cleared and all the Death Eaters rounded up and carted away, Harry had commented on Malfoy's absence. The newly-confirmed hero had made the presumption that Lucius was either too cowardly to show his face at the final confrontation or that Voldemort had ordered him to stay behind and lead the second wave should the first be defeated. When no second wave arrived, the Aurors had no pressing reason to find or detain the pure-blood so his disappearance was filed under "Good riddance" and left at that.

As far as the Muggle-born witch knew, Lucius Malfoy had not been seen in public since. She had been leaning towards the theory that he'd fled the country until she had spotted Draco boarding the Hogwarts Express on September first. Surely, if the son was still in Great Britain then the father was as well.

In the grand scheme of things this year, the Malfoy family had been quite low on her list of priorities. If Dumbledore trusted them enough to allow Draco to finish his last year of school and award him with Head Boy status then he evidently knew something that she and her friends did not, which was pretty much a given when speaking of the headmaster. As long as Lucius wasn't off somewhere trying to bring the Dark Lord back to life — or worse yet, take up the position himself — his whereabouts hadn't really been any of her business.

When the former socialite's name had been uttered in the dungeon laboratory the previous week, however, his fate had been thrust foremost into Hermione's mind and had become seemingly intertwined with her present. If Malfoy was revealed as the same evil, egocentric, nepotistic bastard that he'd always been, Snape's continual friendship with him would give her serious qualms as to the Potions Master's character. She couldn't, in good conscience, continue to have feelings for a man that freely embraced the misguided notions of blood status or overlooked that quality in his comrades.

Hermione glanced up at the staff table and happened to meet the gaze of the man in question. She gave him a tentative smile and felt the butterflies in her stomach spring to life when he bestowed her with a tight-lipped nod in reply. Gods, she really hoped that he wouldn't let her down.

* * *

After the dinner dishes had disappeared, Hermione brushed off her concerned friends with a mumbled, "I'm fine, just need some air," and opted for a quiet stroll around the castle to clear her head. With no destination in mind, her feet instinctively led her down the well-beaten path to the library.

Thankfully, the inner sanctum appeared to be silent and deserted when she pushed through the heavy wooden doors. Even the ever-present Madam Pince was nowhere to be seen. Hermione loved the library this way. She had spent more time within these four walls than just about anywhere else within the castle and the times she cherished most were when there was no one around to disturb her thoughts.

As she walked aimlessly through the stacks, the Gryffindor ran her fingertips across the spines of the books on either side of her, letting the radiating magic and knowledge ebb her anxiety. She wound her way to the back of the library and was surprised to find one of her classmates sitting near the entrance to the Restricted Section in the highly-coveted overstuffed armchair that she had rightfully claimed as her own years ago. Though a book obscured the boy's face, there was no mistaking the arrogant pose, Slytherin robes, and white-blond hair of Draco Malfoy.

Despite her annoyance at finding the Head Boy in her beloved cubby, Hermione's conscience urged her in his direction. She had recently gained an insight of sorts into the wizard's psyche and her compassionate side was drawn to the suppressed anguish that she assumed he was battling. Bastard or not, she couldn't just leave him there to suffer when she had information that would ease his pain.

It was that kind of thinking that had her quietly approaching his chair and clearing her throat to get his attention. "Malfoy?"

The blond looked up sharply from his book but his surprised expression melted into a sneer when he recognized the source of the interruption. "What do you want, Granger? I'm not finished with this book." His focus dropped back to the tome and he lazily waved his hand at the shelves around them. "There's bound to be one or two others in here that you haven't yet memorized."

Hermione's eyes narrowed but she mentally brushed off the barb. Being called a bookworm and a know-it-all too many times to count had built up her tolerance to such remarks, especially from this source. "May I sit down? I'd like to talk to you for a minute."

The wizard studied her from behind the leather-bound pages, suspicion and uncertainty evident in his pale eyes. When he apparently couldn't determine her motive, he shrugged indecisively, which she took as consent. With a small smile, she sat down across from the boy that had been her enemy for the better part of a decade.

The Head Girl wasn't altogether sure how to start such a discussion and when she didn't say anything right away, the Slytherin's curiosity turned into irritation.

"Well?" he snapped.

"I worked with Professor Snape today," she blurted out in one breath, jarred by his tone.

Draco scowled, wondering why he was being bothered with such nonsense. "I fail to see how your superfluous detentions in the dungeons lately should concern me. What did you do this time? Forget to dot an I on your last essay?"

Hermione smirked. So the Gryffindors hadn't been the only ones to notice the ridiculous antics of the Potions Master. That was good to know. "Actually, it wasn't a detention. I assisted him with brewing the Cruciatus cure he's been researching," she replied, carefully watching the boy's features for any signs of danger. Snape had warned her the previous week that the elder man's condition was a private matter and she didn't want to anger her classmate by bringing the subject up.

Realization dawned on his face and dark clouds swirled through his normally pale gray eyes. "I don't need your pity, Granger," he ground out, his tone lethally cold.

"I don't pity you, Draco," she replied quietly, using his given name to emphasize the olive branch she was attempting to offer.

"Then why the hell are you here? Come to rub it in my face? Wanted to tell me that my Death Eater father got exactly what he deserved?" he spat viciously. He expected as much coming from one of Potter's ilk and was surprised that this sort of confrontation hadn't happened yet.

She recoiled slightly at the anger in the boy's words and glanced around the library. The fact that Madam Pince hadn't materialized yet, brandishing her feather duster like a sword, didn't bode well for the librarian's health. Hermione pulled her wand from her sleeve and surrounded the two of them in a privacy spell, causing the Slytherin's eyes to widen ever-so-slightly.

Flashing him a placating smile, she primly laid her wand down on the table between them as a symbolic white flag. "I only found out about your father's condition recently and I would never use a person's illness as ridicule."

"Oh, that's right. I forgot. Gryffindors are too bloody noble for that," Draco replied snidely, his lip curling into a sneer again. "But that still doesn't explain why you're here pestering me. Are you spearheading some sort of Slytherin outreach program?"

Hermione sighed and silently reminded herself that slapping the little ferret again wasn't a solution to the situation, no matter how satisfying it would be. "I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry about your father. I'm sure it hasn't been easy on you."

The blond shrugged coolly but wary eyes betrayed his true feelings. She had never realized how expressive his eyes were before, or perhaps she could only read them now because of her recent experience with deciphering the boy's Head of House's ambiguous expressions.

"I also thought you'd like to know that Professor Snape completed the potion today," she continued when he remained quiet. "He believes it will be successful."

Relief instantly softened the arrogant wizard's features, like air deflating from a balloon. "Really?" he asked unguarded, forgetting his aloof facade in light of the news. Knowing that his father was alone and suffering, near the brink of death, had plagued his every waking thought since returning to the school this year.

She smiled and nodded. "He's planning on administering it tomorrow."

Without replying, the pure-blood turned to stare out the window beside his chair, lost in thoughts that didn't pertain to the witch across from him. After several minutes of silence, Hermione cleared her throat to remind him of her presence. His eyes darted back to hers, and she was happy to see that his previous, cold expression had yet to fully return.

"Look, Draco," she said tentatively, "I'd really like it if we could try to put our differences aside and forget the past. All this House rivalry stuff seems a little childish in comparison to what we've all been through, doesn't it?"

He grinned maliciously, regaining his senses. "Don't worry, Granger. I have a whole myriad of reasons to dislike you besides the fact that you're a Gryffindor."

Hermione scowled and snatched her wand from the table, feeling like a prized fool for even thinking that things could be different. "I was hoping that you had matured a little but obviously, I was mistaken." She stood up from her chair and straightened her robes. "I'll be sure to tell your father hello for you."

"Wait!" Draco called, halting her steps as she began to stalk away. " _You're_ going to the manor?"

Hermione turned to him with narrowed eyes. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Is that a problem? Are you worried that I'll taint your precious pure-blood home?"

The Slytherin ignored the anger radiating off the witch. " _Why_ are you going?"

"Because Professor Snape asked me to," she snapped, turning away from him again. As she set off down the aisle, she heard the wizard's book hit the ground.

"Damn it, Granger!" he growled. "Stop walking away!"

Hermione spun back around, her wand in her hand, to find the tall blond only a few steps away. Draco's eyes darted to the wand aimed at his chest then back up before chuckling derisively. "Who's being childish now?"

This time she seriously contemplated hexing the bastard and leaving the mess for Filch to find. It would serve them both right. Suppressing that impulse, if only out of fear of how Snape would react, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "What do you want, Malfoy? I told you what I came here to say and now I've got better things to do than sit around and be insulted."

Draco studied the girl for a moment, noticing the way her bushy curls virtually crackled with hostility. He idly wondered if she'd try to hit him again. That hadn't been an altogether pleasant experience the first time and he had no desire to relive it. Perhaps a different tactic was in order. "Alright," he said calmly. "Put the wand away, come sit back down, and I'll try to keep my opinions to myself."

Hermione glared at him, trying to ascertain his sincerity, before conceding with a terse nod. Draco released the breath he had been holding and led her back to the armchairs.

"So, how did you end up helping my godfather with his potion?" the pure-blood asked once they were seated again. He kept his face impassive and his tone neutral, despite the heavy animosity in the air. "No one, not even me, has ever been allowed in his private laboratory."

"Snape is your godfather?" she asked in surprise. How had she never known that? No wonder the Slytherin Prince was the man's favorite.

"Obviously or else I wouldn't have just called him that."

"Right," she replied, filing that interesting tidbit away for later contemplation. "Well, he needed an assistant and I suppose I was just in the right place at the right time."

Draco gave her a look that clearly said he didn't believe her vague excuse. "How convenient," he drawled. "What the hell's going on between the two of you?"

Her eyes widened a fraction of an inch before she resumed control over her facilities. This was _not_ a conversation that she wanted to have. "Nothing," she replied with false innocence. "All I did was take notes while he brewed."

"And the detentions?"

She shrugged and gave him the carefully edited truth that she had been telling her friends for weeks. "I grade essays and he ignores me."

The Head Boy barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His godfather had given him basically the same story when he'd questioned him about the witch's detentions the week before. Snape's exact answer had been something along the lines of: "My punishment of miscreant students doesn't concern you, Draco. If you must know, Miss Granger's propensity for bludgeoning everyone with her intelligence seems to have elevated this year and I'm hoping to dissuade it. If I happen to get some of my more tedious essays graded in the process then so be it."

The Malfoy heir had seriously doubted the veracity of the man's explanation. As far as he had seen, his Head of House had been the protagonist in each of his confrontations with the bushy-haired Gryffindor, who didn't appear to be any more bothersome than she'd always been. In fact, after the events of the previous year, she seemed to have finally grown content with letting her intelligence speak for itself rather than constantly thrusting it in everyone's face.

While Draco had silently approved of the change, if for nothing more than the desire to never hear the irritating witch quote _Hogwarts, A History_ ever again, it still begged the question: What were Severus' true motives behind punishing the girl for crimes that didn't really exist?

At the time, he hadn't really believed that his taciturn godfather would intentionally saddle himself with Granger just to have a reprieve from paperwork, especially after overhearing the girl lie to the Lovegood bint the previous weekend, but maybe it _was_ the truth. Maybe the man really had found a way to use the Muggle-born's overactive gray matter to his advantage and right under everyone's noses, Potty and Weasel included. Draco smirked. _How very Slytherin._

"So tell me about the potion," he said, settling back against the cushions for what was sure to be a long-winded recital.

Hermione smiled brightly and congratulated herself on her ever-improving tactics of deception before launching a detailed description of everything that she had witnessed in Snape's laboratory, enthusiasm clinging to every word. She had been dying to talk to somebody, _anybody,_ about the potion since the moment she had learned about it. As the discussion progressed, the blond became more and more involved, asking leading questions and making intelligent comments. Hermione was surprised by his sincere interest in the topic, which didn't seem solely due to his father being the intended recipient. Being friends with Harry and Ron, she'd never experienced an intellectual conversation with someone her own age who actually paid attention and understood what she was talking about. For the first time, the Head Girl found herself wondering if she and the conceited Slytherin could actually become friends. Given her current feelings for the boy's godfather, it certainly wasn't the craziest notion she'd ever had.

After nearly an hour of regaling Malfoy with her story, she ended with a brief explanation of her negligible involvement with the final ingredient. When she was finished, she sat back and waited for the pure-blood's reaction, expecting a swarthy insult but hoping for the tiniest inkling of approval.

To put it mildly, Draco Malfoy was impressed. It was a well-known fact that the Gryffindor know-it-all was, well, a know-it-all, but he had never considered her smarter than himself — she simply had entirely too much free time on her hands which she used to memorize every written word she could get her hands on — but even he had to admit that her suggestion of Monkshood oil was completely brilliant. He never would've considered the use of the poisonous substance a possibility in a medicinal elixir.

Now, normally, he'd rather snog a Dementor than give a Gryffindor a compliment, especially _this_ Gryffindor, even if it was deserved, but seeing as she had aided in something that was meant to heal his father, Draco figured that he should try to say something nice. "Wow, Granger. That wasn't nearly as dense as I've come to expect from your House."

Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes at his backhanded attempt at a compliment. Apparently that inability was a Slytherin trait. "One would think that you'd remember the fact that my _House_ scored higher than yours on the O.W.L.S."

The blond smirked but his retort was cut off by the harried arrival of Madam Pince, who promptly shooed the head students out of the now-closed library. With a shared desire to avoid her patented lecture on obeying school rules, they bid the stern woman good night and made their way out of the stacks to the fourth-floor corridor.

"Draco?" Hermione called before they parted ways at the stairs. He turned to her questioningly and arched his eyebrow when she resolutely stuck out her hand. "Friends?"

"Don't be daft, Granger," he replied, eyeing her outstretched fingers with unquestionable disdain. "You and I could never be friends."

She dropped her arm back to her side. Perhaps friendship was too much to ask from the boy that had always thought of her as nothing more than a _Mudblood_. "Then can we at least cease being enemies?"

Draco gave her a calculating look, reminiscent of the other Slytherin on her mind, before conceding. "I suppose I could handle that."

"I wouldn't want you to strain yourself."

He smirked cockily. "It _is_ a lot to ask."

"Good night, Malfoy," she said in exasperation, knowing that she really couldn't expect any better.

He gave her a casual nod and set off down the staircase without further preamble. "Later, Granger."

She smiled and headed in the opposite direction, marveling at the interesting turn of events. The Gryffindor know-it-all and the Slytherin Prince on more or less amicable terms — who would've ever guessed? Despite the fact that her friends would be positively livid at the news, the more fickle recesses of her mind had to wonder if the dark inhabitant of the dungeons would be pleased with the progression.

* * *

The common room was crowded and noisy, as per usual for a Saturday night, when the Head Girl entered and she had absolutely no patience for it with the prospect of the following day looming over her head. Throwing a wave in Harry and Ron's direction, she made a beeline for the dormitory steps before they could beckon her over. She was almost to the top floor when a red blur came bounding around the corner, oblivious to her presence.

"Ginny!" she screeched.

The younger witch looked up and yelped as she grabbed the handrail to stop herself from colliding with the brunette. "Holy crickets, Hermione! I didn't see you."

"That much was obvious. Why were you running down the stairs like a maniac in the first place?"

Ginny grinned, slightly panting. "Momentum, I guess. It's quite a trek from your room."

Hermione's brow creased. "What were you doing up there?"

"Looking for you, dummy." The Chaser pulled a slightly crumpled, wax-sealed scroll from the pocket of her robes and held it out to the older girl. "Luna and I were just coming in from feeding the Thestrals when Snape stopped us in the Entrance Hall. He gave me this and asked me to get it to you.

Everything else flew out her head, forgotten as Hermione quickly grabbed the scroll and popped open the seal. Ignoring the nervous butterflies that were waging war in her stomach, she unrolled the parchment and scanned the contents.

 _Miss Granger,_

 _The headmaster has given his consent for you to accompany me to Malfoy Manor tomorrow. Lucius will be anticipating our arrival at nine in the morning. I'll expect you twenty minutes beforehand in the Entrance Hall and we'll proceed from there._

 _-Professor S. Snape_

The redhead watched her friend's reaction curiously and was a bit confused by her pleased expression. "Another detention summons?" she asked, already suspecting that it wasn't.

"Not exactly," Hermione replied absently as she read through the spiky missive a second time, a smile blooming unbidden across her features. She rolled the parchment back up before meeting the girl's questioning gaze, wondering how much she could safely divulge.

Ginny was her closest female friend, infinitely more open-minded than the boys, and completely trustworthy. She had confessed some of her most intimate and embarrassing secrets to the youngest Weasley, who had never once betrayed her. But the situation with Snape was vastly more sordid than some light snogging with an international Quidditch star. It was... Well, to be honest, Hermione had no idea what it was but until she understood it herself, it was probably best not to try and explain it to anyone else, even Ginny.

Deciding to simply put a different spin on the truth instead of another outright lie, she flashed the witch her best innocent smile. "It's nothing really. Professor Snape wants me to assist him with some research tomorrow."

Ginny's pale eyebrows shot up. "Research? What sort of research?"

"I'm not entirely sure," she fibbed. "Something to do with a potion he's working on."

"Why would he want _your_ help?

The Head Girl shrugged. "I don't know. I guess if he has to have an assistant, then I'd be the likely choice. He already entrusts me with his essays and I do have the highest grade in his class."

"Well, just tell him no," Ginny suggested, incorrectly assuming that her friend would want to get out of such a predicament. "If it's not a detention then he has no right to force you to help him."

Hermione smiled again. "I don't want to tell him no, Ginny. How many people can say that they've assisted one of the top Potions Masters in the country?"

"But it's Snape!" she exclaimed in disbelief. "You know he's just going to give you some revolting, tedious task that he doesn't want to do himself."

The older girl giggled. "Probably, but I'm willing to do it. Even if I have to wade around in troll dung, it's still an amazing opportunity. Plus, I've been working with him so often lately that his caustic attitude doesn't really faze me anymore. No doubt he'll just ignore me like he normally does."

Ginny shook her head. No matter how much time she spent with the curly-haired witch, she didn't think that she'd ever fully understand her. Who in their right mind would willingly hang out with Snape? "Alright, Hermione. It's your funeral. But Harry's gonna throw a fit."

"I know," she replied with a sigh. "I think I'll wait until breakfast to tell him. These things always go better with the diversion of food."

The redhead snorted. "With Ron maybe, but Harry's not so easy to distract."

"Yeah, we really need to find that boy a _girlfriend_ ," she said pointedly. Hermione knew that Harry and Ginny had always behaved like siblings but occasionally she got the impression that the scar-headed brunet could easily be persuaded into a different sort of relationship with the ginger-haired Chaser.

Ginny held up her hands. "Don't look at me! You know I don't fancy him like that, not anymore."

Hermione smirked. That was indeed the fatal flaw in the plan. Somewhere over the years, the girl had outgrown her worshiping crush on the boy-hero and moved on to systematically work her way through the rest of their male classmates.

"I might be able to be bribed into distracting them both with something slightly less depraved, though. Quidditch, maybe."

"Bribed?" Hermione asked with a raised eyebrow.

The taller witch grinned mischievously. "Yes, bribed. Snape set us a horrid essay on Ashwinder blood and I could really use some pointers on it."

Hermione grinned again and wondered — not for the first time either — if the Sorting Hat hadn't made a judgment error in regards to the girl. Her entire family might be Gryffindors but the youngest clan member definitely possessed some Slytherin characteristics. Of course, then again, so did she when she needed to.

"I'll see what I can do."

Ginny winked and said, "See you tomorrow, then," before taking off down the stone steps once again.

The Head Girl watched her friend's fiery tresses disappear around the curved stairwell before continuing up to her room. After slipping into her pajamas, she climbed onto her bed and scratched the sleeping cat behind his ears. Crookshanks purred against her hand for a moment before meowing, turning away, and ignoring her. She huffed at the ungrateful beast, settled against the pillows, and reread the scroll Ginny had delivered.

It wasn't a sonnet of undying devotion but it was definitely a step in the right direction. Snape wouldn't have invited her to join him if he truly despised her, regardless of the Monkshood suggestion. No, Hermione was almost certain that the dour man now had at least an inkling of respect for her and she'd take respect over loathing any day.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Just a reminder, as Hermione journeys to Malfoy Manor in this chapter, that this story is AU after book 5. Nothing that took place in Deathly Hallows has a bearing on this story (it was originally written before the book's release!) so this Hermione has never been to the manor and holds none of those negative memories.

* * *

 **CHAPTER EIGHT**

The next morning, Hermione's heart seemed permanently lodged in her throat and the butterflies in her stomach had apparently been transfigured into a writhing knot of serpents during the night.

"Gods," she muttered to herself as she climbed into the shower. If anyone ever found out that she was actually excited by the prospect of spending time with Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy, they'd surely cart her off to St. Mungo's for observation, which probably wasn't altogether off the mark given the circumstances. If she survived the weekend without embarrassing herself to death, perhaps she'd reconsider Obliviation.

After bathing, the witch had a short-lived panic attack while trying to decide what type of clothing would be appropriate for the day. Would dress robes be overdoing it? Would she be sending the wrong message by wearing her school uniform? Would she set alarms off in the pure-blood home by wearing Muggle clothing?

In the end, after pulling every article of clothing she owned from her wardrobe, she settled on a comfortable yet stylish pair of Muggle jeans and a cashmere jumper to be hidden beneath her usual school robes. She then forcefully wrangled the damp mass of curls atop her head into a ponytail with the assistance of an ample amount of Sleekeazy's. Once satisfied that she looked presentable enough to face the Malfoy patriarch, she scratched Crookshanks behind the ears, ordered him to behave himself, and set off downstairs, hoping to appease the stomach-dwelling serpents with breakfast.

Surprisingly, all three of her best friends were already seated at the long House table when she entered the Great Hall. She briefly wondered what unearthly forces had conspired to wake the boys so early on a Sunday, knowing that she had something particularly unsavory to tell them. Steeling her nerves in the way only Gryffindors could, Hermione painted on an easy smile and walked headlong into the lion's den.

After the perfunctory morning greetings, Ron started the ball rolling down a treacherous slope by asking, "What are you doing today, 'Mione? More studying?" in between mouthfuls of scrambled egg.

Before she could answer, Harry shot her a solicitous smile. "How about helping us with that star chart for Astronomy instead?"

"You mean the chart that I tried to get the two of you to do weeks ago?" she asked unnecessarily.

Ron grinned. "That would be the one."

Hermione rolled her eyes and snatched a croissant from the pile in the center of the table. "Can't," she replied before taking a bite of the flaky pastry in a vain attempt to buy her time and perhaps a bit of artificial courage. "I'll be leaving the castle for a while after breakfast."

"Leaving? What for?" Harry asked, his juice glass suspended in front of his mouth. He couldn't fathom any possible reason for the girl leaving Hogwarts on such short notice.

The older witch glanced at Ginny, who gave her an encouraging smile. "I'm going to be helping Professor Snape with some research," she said quietly, keeping her gaze diverted from the fury she knew would be present in the emerald eyes of her best friend.

Harry's cup slipped out of his hand and clattered against the table, remaining miraculously unbroken but spraying everything in a three-foot radius with orange droplets. "Snape!" he exclaimed, paying no attention to the mess he had just created.

"Bloody hell, Hermione! You're spending your Sunday with Snape! On purpose?" Ron asked, his expression a mixture of revulsion and bewilderment as he distractedly wiped the pumpkin juice off his face. "Don't you see enough of that greasy git in detention?"

"I know," she replied defensively, flicking her wand at her splattered robes, "but he asked for my assistance on a project and Professor Dumbledore has given his consent."

"What did you do to deserve that? Steal the old man's supply of lemon drops?" Ron asked incredulously, causing his sister to giggle.

"It's not punishment, Ronald," Hermione chided as she swept a cleansing spell over the table, siphoning the juice back into Harry's glass.

"Then why the hell would you agree to such a thing, Hermione?" the brunet demanded, having finally regained the power of speech. His eyes were hard as diamonds and full of bottled anger.

She scowled at him, refusing to skirt away from the intensity of his gaze. "It's not like I'm going to a Dark revel with him, for Merlin's sake!"

"You might as well be."

She grimaced internally but kept her face impassive in an unconscious impersonation of the Potions Master. "When are you going to accept the fact that Professor Snape isn't an adversary, Harry?"

The two redheads at the table exchanged a weary, knowing glance and shrank back from the confrontation. This argument had been building since the end of the war and neither of them had any desire to be a part of it.

Meanwhile, the younger wizard's face contorted in anger. "He's a bastard, Hermione! A cruel, manipulative bastard!"

"I'm not contesting that, but he's _not_ the enemy. After everything he's done for the Order, for _you_ , he's earned our respect."

"How can you respect him after the way he's treated you this year?" Harry cried. "His allegiance to the Order be damned!"

The curly-haired witch closed her eyes and struggled to control her breathing. "I haven't been harmed, Harry," she argued quietly, settling her eyes back on his. "He's belittled me and picked on me and infuriated me, but he hasn't hurt me."

"Yet!" he snapped. "But now he's trying to take you out of the castle, away from Dumbledore's protection, to do Merlin knows what, and you're just gonna walk into the trap voluntarily?"

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh and shook her head. "I somehow doubt that the man would make the effort of securing the Headmaster's permission if he was planning to do away with me."

She bit into her croissant again, beyond annoyed with the way the conversation was going. This was precisely why she had been keeping him in the dark lately. She knew that his hostility was born out of love and that he just wanted to protect her but sometimes he seemed to forget that she was a powerful witch in her own right and was more than capable of taking care of herself.

"This is an incredible opportunity," she stated after a moment of reflection, glancing between Harry and Ron with beseeching eyes. "I'm not going to pass it up just because the two of you still think that Professor Snape is evil. I'm honored that he asked me to go with him and seeing as there aren't any other Potions Masters owling me with offers, I'm going." Her deadly calm tone was one that the boys were all too familiar with. She meant business and wouldn't be persuaded.

The storm in Harry's eyes seemed to evaporate into the verdant sea, despite the uneasy frown that was still tugging at the corners of his mouth. He admired the Head Girl's stubborn streak just as much as the rest of her — it had saved his arse countless times over the years — and he would concede, like he always did when the high-strung witch was fired up about something. But if Snape hurt a single frizzy curl on her head, he would single-handedly hunt him down and thoroughly enjoy every moment of the bastard's slow and torturous demise.

Hermione smiled when she saw the wizard's features soften in wordless surrender. "Besides," she said, braving the banks of their newly-formed understanding, "if I help Snape today, he'll be more inclined to give me a letter of recommendation when we graduate. A referral from him would just about guarantee me a spot in a Potions program next year."

"Do you really think he'd do that?" Ginny asked, trying to help the older girl steer the mood into a lighter realm. She felt a bit bad for basically abandoning her to the cold fury of Harry's temper after she had offered her assistance the night before.

Hermione shrugged. "I have no idea, but it can't hurt to try. Even if he doesn't, I'll still have the experience to put on my application."

Ron shook his head at the girl's one-track mind and tucked back into his breakfast but it seemed that his best mate wasn't ready to give up quite so quickly. "Hermione, you've got the highest grades in the school and you're one of the most brilliant people I know. You'll be able to get into any program you want without that git's help."

She smiled at the compliment. "Maybe, but maybe not. Those spots are really hard to get and every little bit would help."

Harry sighed in resignation, having exhausted his last possible defense, before asking, "When will you be back?"

The two witches shared an amused glance at the boy's concession. "I don't know for sure but we'll probably only be gone a few hours."

He nodded stoically and remained quiet until Ginny changed the subject to Quidditch as promised, if not a bit late, suggesting that the three of them spend the morning on the pitch. With her friends' thoughts engaged elsewhere, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and was able to finish her breakfast in peace.

* * *

When she entered the Entrance Hall at nearly twenty minutes to nine, Hermione was surprised to find the Head Boy, instead of Snape, waiting by the front doors. Endeavoring to start the day off right, she smiled brightly at the blond and quickly crossed the marble tile in his direction. "Good morning, Draco."

"Morning, Granger," he replied coolly, resisting the automatic impulse to sneer at the Muggle-born due to their truce the evening before. That rash decision was going to take some time and discipline to adhere to. His dislike of the Gryffindor know-it-all had been deeply ingrained in his psyche ever since she had out-performed him in class during their very first week at Hogwarts and had only intensified over the years.

"Are you're coming too?" she asked curiously.

He nodded. "I spoke with Severus after I left the library last night."

Hermione smiled again, relief and disappointment battling for supremacy in her head. It'd be nice to have someone else her age around, as well as an additional buffer between her and the boy's father, but she'd been really looking forward to spending time alone with the Potions Master outside of the dungeons. "That's good. You should be there."

Before the Slytherin could respond, Snape swooped into the Entrance Hall from the dungeon corridor, in all his bat-like glory, and strode towards the exit. Without a word to either student, he opened the oak doors and stalked out into the sunlight, obviously expecting them to follow.

Hermione rolled her eyes in Draco's direction, earning an amused smirk in response before the two of them took off after the man's billowing robes. They had to jog a bit to catch up with his long strides but soon fell into step beside him.

"I'm well aware that you don't share the greatest affinity for one another," the older wizard said as they traversed the lawn, "but I expect you to hold your tongues and act civilly today. I refuse to spend my time breaking up childish quarrels." The iciness in his tone left no doubt that the consequences of disobedience would be severe.

Feeling more confident out in the sunshine than she did in the man's dungeon domain, the Head Girl smiled at his warning. "There's no need to worry about that, Professor. Draco and I have come to an understanding."

Snape glanced skeptically between his charges, dark hair obscuring his eyes as it whipped about in the wind.

"It's true, Severus," Draco confirmed. He didn't explain to his godfather that he felt the day too important to ruin in that manner but he knew he didn't have to.

With another sidelong glance at the pair, the older wizard nodded in approval. "I'll hold you to that."

When the odd trio arrived at the edge of the grounds, Snape wordlessly dropped the wards and vanished the chains around the massive iron gates before ushering the others through. Once the three of them were officially beyond the perimeter of Hogwarts and the wards had been secured again, he turned towards the Gryffindor. "You'll need to travel with me by Side-Along Apparition, Miss Granger, since you've never been to Malfoy Manor before."

"Yes, sir," she replied politely, trying to hide her surprise. In her excitement over the trip, she hadn't given a single moment's thought to how they'd actually be getting there. She had never traveled by Side-Along Apparition before but she knew the principles behind it. The knowledge that she'd have to be in direct, physical contact with the object of her desires caused her pulse to thrum in excitement.

Ignorant to the witch's thoughts, Severus turned to his godson. "Go on ahead, Draco. We'll be right behind you."

The blond nodded, turned on the spot, and disappeared with a loud crack before Hermione had even realized what was happening. The loud boom jerked her back to reality and she stared up, slightly flushed, at the dark-haired wizard before her.

"Have you ever Apparated with another person before?" he asked, hoping that her answer would be yes. He had had more than one person vomit on his shoes after their first tandem journey and he didn't fancy a repeat performance. It wasn't a pleasant method of travel by any means, but in this instance, it was a necessary one. Her declination elicited a weary exhale.

"Very well. Come here."

Hermione quickly moved to stand at his side and glanced back up at him expectantly.

"May I assume that you've studied the theory behind Side-Along?"

She nodded.

"Good. It's basically the same as Apparating alone, but the sensation can be disorienting your first time because you will not be in control of the displacement," he explained with uncharacteristic patience. "The best thing to do is to fill your lungs with air beforehand, hold it, and then release it once we've landed."

"Yes, sir."

Severus turned his gaze to the trees swaying in the distance, contemplating his next words and regretting his decision to turn down Albus' offer of securing them a Portkey. At the time, he merely hoped to avoid the Ministry's knowledge of their excursion until he knew that the potion was successful but now, faced with the reality, he felt distinctly uneasy about the proximity Side-Along Apparition would require with his female student — this female student, in particular.

He sighed again, resigning to the necessity of the situation. "Forgive me, Miss Granger, but I'll need to put my arm around you for the trip."

Hermione's eyes widened. She had assumed that she'd merely need to take his arm and the unexpected change gave a whole new meaning to the word "awkward." Feeling his body tense in discomfort beside her, she forced her own to appear unaffected. "Right. No problem."

Without further warning, Snape wrapped his arm firmly around her torso, splaying his hand across her rib cage just under her breasts and causing her breath to hitch painfully in her throat.

"You might want to close your eyes," he murmured against the top of her head. The almost intimate tone seemed to soothe her panicking nerves. Following his advice, she shut her eyes tightly and leaned into his strength as if drawn by a magnetic force.

"Deep breath," he reminded her.

She inhaled sharply, the crisp, fall air mingling with the clean, spicy scent of the Potions Master as he gripped her small frame tighter, turned, and pulled her into the darkness.

Despite the altogether delicious traveling arrangements, Hermione didn't enjoy the sensation of Side-Along Apparition one bit. During the momentary journey in the professor's embrace, she felt as if her body was being squeezed through a Muggle drinking straw, magic painfully compressing her chest and attempting to rob her of the breath she was desperately trying to hold.

Once the spinning stopped and they were back on solid ground, she expelled the air in her lungs in one violent burst as the wizard released her midsection. Keeping her eyes firmly shut, she bent over and rested her hands on her knees in hopes of suppressing the nausea that was threatening to overwhelm her. _Disorienting_ had been a cruel understatement.

"Are you alright?"

Hermione opened her eyes gingerly and turned her head in the direction of the timbre voice. She caught the briefest look of concern on the professor's face before it was replaced by apathy. She took a deep breath and smiled weakly at him. "Yes, sir. I'm fine." She stood up slowly, cautiously testing the steadiness of her stomach. "That was... an unusual experience."

He smirked, silently impressed with the girl's constitution. "Yes, it can be rather unpleasant but it gets easier once you're prepared for the feeling."

Hermione nodded in response but silently hoped that she'd never have to find out. As much as she had disliked traveling by Portkey in her fourth year, that experience had felt like an amusing ride on a merry-go-round in comparison.

"Are you two coming or not?" the youngest Malfoy shouted from inside a set of wrought-iron gates several yards away from them, rousing the witch from her scattered thoughts.

Severus scowled and set off in the blond's direction, leaving the Head Girl to trail behind him. "Show a little tact, Draco," he said reproachfully. "That was Miss Granger's first experience with Side-Along and I might point out that she handled it a far sight better than you did."

The girl in question beamed at the compliment even as her classmate glowered at the older man. "I handled it just fine," he snapped defensively.

"My dragonhide boots would disagree."

Hermione barely kept from snorting at that comment as they started down the gravel walkway. They had only just arrived at the outskirts of their destination and already she was seeing a different side of the normally taciturn wizard. For the first time, she began to speculate about how his personality might differ once away from the confines of the school. If his glimmer of concern for her and short-lived banter with Draco were any guide, she had a feeling that she was going to immensely enjoy this outing.

As they continued between the neatly manicured hedgerows towards the enormous manor that was unfurling in the distance, the curious witch peered over the shrubbery. The drive was flanked on either side by massive gardens. There was a vast array of plants and flowers of both magical and Muggle varieties, intersected by a virtual labyrinth of stone paths and exquisite topiaries. She had never seen such elaborate landscaping and she silently marveled at how wealthy the Malfoy family must really be.

Before she was able to comment on the surrounding beauty, however, a large white bird landed unexpectedly on the hedge to her left, causing the Gryffindor to shriek and jump in surprise, nearly colliding with the tall wizard in front of her.

"Blasted peacocks!" Snape spat as the bird took flight again.

"Peacocks?" she cried, her heart pounding against her chest. "That bird was completely white!"

Draco snickered at the girl's surprise even though the appearance of the bird had caught him off guard as well. "It's an albino peacock. There's a whole flock of them running around here."

The Head Girl's brow creased in confusion. "What's the point of an albino peacock?"

Severus smirked. That was the exact same question he had asked his former schoolmate when the man purchased the birds several years ago. Without their colorful feathers, they were just large, irritating chickens. "Let's just say that Lucius has a penchant for the exotic."

Unsure how to respond to that comment, Hermione kept her mouth closed and concentrated on the professor's dark shadow until they reached the end of the gravel path. Albino bloody peacocks — now she had seen everything.

When the trio stopped, she looked up at the towering white manor. It was exactly the type of house she had envisioned the Malfoy family living in: a mixture of classical and medieval architecture, complete with Roman columns and castle turrets, and enormous. No doubt the mansion was centuries old, passed down from generation to generation and meticulously maintained by a whole squadron of overworked and ill-treated house-elves.

This was the third pure-blood home she had visited since becoming a member of wizarding society and its grandeur made both the Burrow and Grimmauld Place look like hovels in comparison. In all honesty, Hermione would choose the Weasley's love and laughter filled dwelling with all its rickety, squeaking stairs, attic ghouls, and garden gnomes over Malfoy Manor's ostentatiousness any day, but she was still impressed by the estate and eager to see the inside.

"Your home is really beautiful, Draco," Hermione commented politely as she admired the ornate stained glass inlays on the front doors.

The blond shrugged casually in response despite the fact that he was inordinately happy to be back home in the present circumstances. With everything that had happened in the past two years, the house that he had lived in since the day he was born had taken on a dark, ominous feel. With his father's illness and his mother's death, it sometimes felt like Dementors were living amongst them, hovering just out of view and constantly draining the life force out of the inhabitants. But today, armed with the magical elixir hidden inside his godfather's robes, Draco hoped that they'd be able to vanquish the oppressiveness that had settled over his ancestral home once and for all.

Turning the silver door knob, he felt the protective wards instantly dismantle in response to his magical signature and led the visitors into the dimly-lit foyer.

Once inside, Hermione tried to appraise her surroundings in the faint lamplight but wasn't able to see much more than a massive staircase amongst the shadows. With a slight frown, she turned to the professor. "Are you sure that Mr. Malfoy is expecting us? It doesn't look like anyone's home."

Snape removed his traveling cloak, minimized it with his wand, and tucked the tiny swatch of black into the pocket of his robes. "Lucius' eyes are very sensitive to light these days, so the shades are kept drawn and the lamps set on low. I assure you though, he's here."

She was only able to nod before a very wrinkly house-elf appeared with a loud crack, making the curly-headed witch jump again.

"Are you always this easily startled, Miss Granger, or is it just for my benefit?"

She scowled and muttered, "Things keep jumping out at me today," before turning her full attention to the small creature before them.

The elf looked ancient, albeit well groomed. Its large ears featured none of the wiry hairs that Kreacher's did and its tea-towel toga was clean and fluffy, embroidered with a large silver M on the breast.

"Master Draco! Popkins is being pleased to see you!" the elf squeaked in a decidedly feminine voice, bowing low in front of the youngest Malfoy, her long, pointy nose brushing the marble tile.

"Hello, Popkins," Draco said fondly, gesturing for her to stand before waving his hand at the room's other occupants. "These are my guests. You already know Severus and this is Hermione Granger."

Hermione was quite surprised by the boy's genial tone. Both Harry and Dobby had told her how horribly the Malfoy family treated their enslaved servants but the blond's behavior and the elf's appearance contradicted a hefty chunk of their accounts.

The broad smile and bright eyes that the house-elf had been bestowing on her Master were turned on his visitors and she curtsied politely. "Popkins is being pleased to meet the young Master's guests."

"I'm pleased to meet you as well, Popkins," Hermione replied, smiling warmly at the little elf while Snape merely nodded in acknowledgement of the wrinkly creature.

"Popkins, where is Father?" Draco asked, drawing the elf's large green eyes back to himself.

"Master is being in the library. Today is being a good day."

Hermione saw the Head Boy's features brighten slightly at the elf's cryptic reply before he said, "Thank you, Popkins. We can show ourselves there. You may go now." The elderly house-elf curtsied again and disappeared with another loud clap.

Without further discussion, the wizard led the others through several rooms of the manor in search of his father. Each room that they passed through was as lowly-lit as the foyer had been, but as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Hermione was able to slowly make out some of the stark decor. The rooms felt cold and uninhabited, like a summer house that had been boarded up for the winter.

The only sign of life came from the large portraits that adorned the walls, each displaying the pale, aristocratic features that she had come to associate with the Malfoy family. Unlike the witches and wizards in the Headmaster's office, Draco's ancestors didn't even bother to feign sleep as they shuffled between frames to get a better look at the visitors. She had little doubt that she was the first Muggle-born to ever step foot in the pure-blood dwelling and somehow knew that they knew.

One particular point of interest was a massive, ornate silver frame that took up the majority of the wall in one of the rooms. The strange thing was that the frame appeared to be completely empty, the black of the canvas so absolute that it could have only been achieved by magic. Irrepressible curiosity urged the Muggle-born towards the mysterious portrait. Her fingertips were very nearly touching the oddly glassy surface when a thin and callused had wrapped tightly around her wrist.

"Come, Miss Granger," Snape murmured beside the girl, his warm breath blowing across her cheek. "We ought not to keep Lucius waiting."

Hermione blushed like a first-year being caught out of her dormitory after hours and nodded as the wizard released her hand. She didn't know why she had felt so drawn to that particular picture but she made sure to stay close behind the men throughout the rest of the tour in case the feeling repeated itself.

Her appreciation of the mansion increased tenfold when her classmate pushed open the double doors of the library. Draco and Snape strode in casually, obviously familiar with the awe-inspiring sight that left Hermione frozen in the doorway, struggling to take in the magnitude of her surroundings.

To the Gryffindor bookworm, the single most impressive private book collection she'd ever beheld was a virtual wonderland, more delightful than even the utopian gardens outside. Anyone can plant flowers but few would be able to amass a treasure of these proportions, even given multiple lifetimes and limitless resources. The elongated two-story room was lined with innumerable shelves, filled to capacity with tomes bound in various shades of rich leather. Gold-embossed titles seem to wink at her from every angle, firelight from the massive hearth in the center of the room bouncing off their spines. Hermione could've stood there all day.

"Do stop gaping like a fish," the somber man beside her snapped, effectively bringing her back to reality. She glowered at the Potions Master until an unfamiliar male voice met her ears.

"Don't be so harsh with the woman, Severus. It's obvious that her love of knowledge has gotten the better of her. I can remember a time when you felt the same way."

She turned towards the source of the gravelly-spoken words, her eyes narrowing slightly in the dim light, and nearly gasped when her gaze fell upon the man sitting in the armchair closest to the fire. Her anxiety, which had abated in the enjoyment of her surroundings, quickly flared to life again.

Severus placed a hand on the small of the shell-shocked girl's back and ever-so-lightly pried her away from the doorjamb. "Come, Miss Granger," he murmured again before gently leading her over to the Lord of the Manor.

Once closer, Hermione was able to clearly see the impact that the curse had had on the man's body and the unexpected extremity of it caused her breath to catch uncomfortably in her throat. Though still long, the pure-blood's once luxurious blond hair now hung thin, limp, and brittle on his shoulders, the ends frayed and uneven. The regal handsomeness of his face had been replaced by dull, patchy skin creased with the deep lines of someone three times his age and cheek and jaw bones that stood out far too sharply in contrast. His pale eyes were clouded over with a thick white film, like that of a blind person, and his cracked lips looked as if they had recently been bleeding. The dark satin of his robes seemed to swallow his body whole and the only other visible skin was that of his hands, stretched tightly over bony fingers, which were clenched in his lap in an attempt to suppress the obvious tremors running through them.

Hermione felt her eyes begin to prickle as she took in the wizard's dilapidated features. Nobody, no matter what their previous crimes had been, deserved to suffer like this. As anxiety was smothered by a weighty mixture of grief, sympathy, and secondhand indignation, she swallowed thickly to quell the tears that threatened to fall and forced a small smile on her face.

"Lucius, may I reintroduce you to Miss Hermione Granger? Although I'm sure you remember her well enough," Snape said, an undeniable twinge of sarcasm lacing his tone as he removed his hand from the witch's back and dropped it back down to his side. Only after the comforting pressure was gone did Hermione realize that it had ever been there to begin with.

The older man let out a painfully weak, raspy laugh. "That's a cruel understatement — I doubt even Obliviation could erase the memories we share." He gave her a tired, yet sincere smile, the cracks on his lips deepening at the effort. "How are you, Miss Granger? Welcome to my home."

Hermione, who had been expecting the very worst, was startled by the man's pleasant greeting. The last time that she had been in his vicinity, he had spat at her and called her Mudblood filth. The abrupt change was almost as unsettling as his current appearance.

"Thank you for having me, Mr. Malfoy," she replied cordially when all other logical responses eluded her.

Lucius held up a withered hand. "Please, my dear, call me Lucius. Severus has told me all about your contribution to the potion—" he paused to cough hoarsely into a handkerchief "—and it seems that I owe you a great deal of gratitude."

She shook her head. "It was Professor Snape's creation. He was gracious enough to let me watch." Her eyes darted to the man in question but his stance and curtain of black hair prevented eye contact. "I don't think any gratitude is in order for merely annoying the Potions Master."

"I'm sure your House mates would disagree with you on that point," Snape scoffed. "However, your presence in my laboratory provided a little more than mere annoyance and it's for that that Lucius and I are both thankful."

Hermione smirked at his tone, side-stepping the praise and effortlessly falling back into the game they had been playing all year. "And yet, you don't deny that I annoyed you?"

He turned to face her, his dark eyes glittering though only a slight twitch of his lips confirmed his amusement. "I cannot dispute _fact_. I can only concede that in this instance, your annoyance proved beneficial."

"Your compliments need some serious work, Professor," she countered without thinking before slapping her hand over her mouth, horrified at its betrayal.

Lucius laughed again. "She's just as you described, Severus."

"Indeed," he replied, drawing his attention from the blushing witch back to his friend.

Hermione glanced between the two wizards, wanting to know exactly what had been said about her, but the blond's creaky voice assuaged such notions temporarily.

"Regardless of whether or not you aided in the potion's inception, Miss Granger, I do feel the need to beg your forgiveness for my unconscionable behavior towards you in the past."

The surprise the Muggle-born had felt at the eldest Malfoy's greeting paled in comparison to the bewildered astonishment that now caused her hand to fall from her mouth. Never had she even considered receiving an apology from the pure-blood patriarch and now that she was, she had no idea what to make of it. Her eyes darted questioningly to Draco, who had been oddly quiet since arriving in the library, but he appeared to be just as surprised by his father's words as she was.

"I know that an apology cannot even begin to exonerate my deplorable character," Lucius continued, misinterpreting her silence as resistance, "but it's all that I have to offer."

Hermione could see the honest remorse written across his curse-riddled features. Despite the evils of his past — those she knew of personally and ones she didn't even want to speculate about — the kind-hearted witch felt an intrinsic need to forgive the man before her. He had already paid a hefty price for his crimes. She smiled kindly at the frail blond and shook her head. "There's no need for apologies. The past is just that and I've never been one for grudges."

Her eyes flickered to her classmate again, who met her gaze with a look of begrudged respect. Had she been able to read the formidable mind of the man beside her, she would have been startled once again by his feelings of pride and admiration, both towards his old friend for being man enough to ask for forgiveness and towards her for being mature enough to accept it.

"Ever the Gryffindor," Lucius replied, his tone completely free from disdain. "I was hoping for that." His smirk was mirrored by the other two Slytherins in the room.

The Head Girl's reflexive defense of her House's traits died in her throat as the wizard began to cough again, his painfully thin frame shaking as his lungs struggled to draw breath through the siege. When he removed the handkerchief from his mouth, she grimaced at the splatter of crimson on the white linen. Obviously the curse's long-term effects ran far below the surface.

The pure-blood cleared his throat gingerly. "Let's get on with the show, shall we?"

"A good idea," Severus replied, affected more by his friend's defeated tone than he cared to admit. "You'll need to stand."

As his father nodded in consent, Draco moved in front of the older man's chair, anticipating the unspoken need, and helped him to his feet. Once he was standing, supported by the Seeker's arm around his waist, Hermione was able to see just how emaciated and weak the ex-Death Eater had become. His frame, which had always been thin yet sinewy and virile like his son's, had diminished to the point that he looked nearly skeletal beneath the voluminous folds of his robes, which were easily four times too big. His legs shook from the effort of holding the rest of his body upright despite the assistance. The ramrod straight back that had always allowed him to look down his egotistical nose at those beneath him was now hunched forward awkwardly, making him look more like a little old lady than the proud elitist he was known to be.

Snape stepped in closer to the conjoined pair and withdrew a vial of the lime green potion from the inner pocket of his robes. Before he could hand the elixir to Lucius, however, the man's body started to tremble slightly. Draco instinctively held tighter to his father's waist as the tell-tale shivers quickly escalated into a violent seizure.

Hermione gasped and held her hand to her mouth again. Knowing that there was nothing he could do for his friend until the convulsions stopped, Severus stepped back to her side to try and alleviate her distress. The Gryffindor grasped his forearm as soon as he came close, not caring that her actions were inappropriate or more than likely, unwanted.

"Isn't there anything you can do?" she whispered feverishly, unable to look away from the unmasked pain in the Head Boy's eyes as he struggled to keep his father from falling to the floor.

"The seizure has to play itself out. Magical means of restraining the tremors have proved more harmful than the seizures themselves." Slipping the potion vial back into his pocket, he covered the small fingers that were digging into his arm with his free hand. "It should be over soon."

Hermione nodded soberly as a single tear rolled down her cheek. She hadn't fully comprehended the severity of the situation until that very moment. Watching the two men that had been her enemies for so long battle this unseen yet ruthless predator — one for his life, the other for mercy — she couldn't imagine anything more heart-wrenching. As the convulsions calmed to gentler trembling once again, the witch prayed to every deity she had ever read about that the potion would be successful.

When the quaking finally subsided, Lucius went completely limp in his son's arms, his head lolling to the side and blood trickling from his parted lips onto the thick rug below. Even though Draco's brow was peppered with beads of sweat and his normally perfect hair was disheveled from the sustained effort, he held tight to his father. The Slytherin closed his eyes and bowed his head to press his lips to the older man's temple.

Feeling like she was trespassing on a deeply personal moment, Hermione looked down at her shoes and tried to stop the flood of tears from falling.

"This is a natural side effect from the curse," the Potions Master quietly explained to his recent assistant, his hand still laid upon hers. "There are days when he's plagued with such convulsions every time he moves and others when he isn't affected at all."

"And there's nothing that can be done to stop it?" she asked, her voice so thick with emotion that she nearly choked on it. "There are Muggle drugs that can suppress seizures."

"This isn't a Muggle disease, Miss Granger. It's Dark magic that's attacking his body and every attempt we've made to control it has only exacerbated the problem. The only method that's proved even remotely successful is sedation, but—"

"He doesn't want to spend his life as a vegetable," Draco interjected, his pale eyes reopening and settling on the conjoined hands of his godfather and the Gryffindor.

"But if it helps..." Hermione started to argue, meeting her classmate's bloodshot gaze, but the rest of her question was forgotten as Lucius began to regain consciousness.

"Hopefully after today, it won't be an issue," Snape muttered, more to himself than anyone else, it seemed, as he watched the man's decimated nervous system try to right itself in the aftermath.

Lucius had taken him under his wing when he was nothing more than a scraggly first-year and had stuck by him through torture and treason. Even when their loyalties to the Dark Lord separated them, the blond wizard had never betrayed the spy's secrets or forsook their friendship. Over the years, there had been times when Severus hated the older Slytherin for his warped thinking and loose morals but he had never forgotten the gratitude and affection he had once felt as a lonely and scared eleven-year-old in desperate need of an ally.

"I believe I'm ready," Lucius croaked once he had regained control over most of his extremities, putting an end to the Potions Master's woolgathering.

Snape quickly extracted himself from the curly-haired witch and removed the vial from his pocket. "It may be easier if I assist you with this," he offered, his tone kinder than any the Head Girl had ever heard him use before.

Lucius looked down at his hands and grimaced as another tremor ran through them. "Yes, perhaps that would be best."

"Draco," Severus said, looking up at his godson. "You'll need to release him while I administer the potion. I'm not entirely sure how it will react."

The younger wizard nodded and, after assuring that his father was steady enough to stand on his own, released him and went to stand next to his classmate. Lucius tilted his head back and parted his cracked lips, submitting to anything that stood a chance of liberating him from the ongoing torture that had become a part of his daily existence. With a quick mental petition to whatever gods were listening, Snape uncorked the vial and poured the vibrant liquid into his friend's waiting mouth.

"That's all of it. It should take effect soon," the Potions Master announced once the vial was empty. He stepped back to stand next to his students, thinking that their nervousness would make his own not feel so ridiculous. He had performed hundreds of potions experiments over the years but never had the anticipated outcome been so crucial or so personal.

Malfoy closed his eyes as the last of the potion slid down his throat, the bitter liquid weaving a scorching trail through raw muscles, and tilted his head towards the floor, tucking his chin to his chest and allowing his hair to fall down and shield his face like a wispy golden curtain.

For a full minute, the group stood in complete silence, all eyes focused on the fragile man as they waited for any sign of success. Sandwiched between the two Slytherins, Hermione could almost feel both their hearts racing alongside hers, fear, anxiety, and exhilaration coursing through each of them with every frantic beat.

Suddenly and without warning, the wizard's entire body was enveloped in a soft white light that seemed to radiate from his very skin, pouring out from his fingertips and each strand of flaxen hair. His face, which was already too pale and too thin, appeared translucent in the eerie magical light, making him look more like a suspended corpse than a living, breathing man.

Hermione studied the glowing spectacle like a child would a new toy, tilting her head from side to side as the thrill of new knowledge zinged in her veins. She briefly wondered why she hadn't thought to bring something to document the experiment, until she realized that not only was the former Death Eater not moving but he didn't appear to be breathing either.

"I don't think he's breathing, Professor!" she cried, fear that they had poisoned the pure-blood slamming into her chest full force and propelling her towards him.

Snape reached out and roughly grabbed the witch by the arm, jerking her backward. "Don't!" he hissed. "We have no idea what will happen if you touch that light!"

"You can't just—" Hermione's words were cut off by the surprised gasp that escaped her lips as the magic surrounding Lucius spiked sharply, flooding the darkened library with pure light. Her small hands reached out to clutch at the professor's robes and Draco's arm simultaneously, linking the trio as the man in front of them began to transform.

While the light surrounding him brightened, more light, or magic, or whatever force was at work, seemed to pour into the wizard's body itself, rebuilding fat, tissue, and atrophied muscles in a single swipe and refilling the formerly oversized robes with the broad shoulders and thin waist that Hermione recognized from her past. The brittle silvery-blond hair that still hung down from Lucius' bowed head crackled from the power shooting through it, restoring the locks to their healthy, luxurious glory. Lastly, his hollow cheeks filled out, the skin becoming soft and clear as the wrinkles vanished completely.

Once the exterior was renewed, the magic began to focus on the internal damage wrought by the curse. Though the onlookers couldn't see anything more than the unearthly light brighten again and start to pulsate around the patient, the potion worked its way through the wizard's body, revitalizing organs and repairing the fractured nervous system that had previously been thought irremediable.

After several minutes, the almost blinding white light dulled until it merely illuminated the immobile form of Lucius Malfoy, who looked decades younger than he had moments before but who had yet to start breathing. Hermione's hands clenched tighter as she held her own breath while waiting for the Slytherin's to begin again.

"Damn it, Granger! Let go!" Draco hissed beside her, wrenching the witch's hand off of him. He pulled back the sleeve of his robes to reveal several nail indentations in the reddened skin of his forearm.

"Sorry." Hermione blushed and released her hold on the professor's robes as well despite the fact that he was still possessively gripping her upper arm. She turned to look at him and found his black eyes glued to the still glowing form of his friend, worry lines marring his normally impenetrable mask.

"He's still not breathing," she whispered, hoping that the softness of her voice would somehow make the statement less true.

"I'm well aware of that," he snapped, though she knew the words were fueled more by frustration and fear than of malice. Cold eyes darted to meet mournful brown and the tension in both faded slightly at the connection.

"Look!" Draco exclaimed suddenly, drawing their attention back to the experiment.

The soft light was dwindling again, seemingly reabsorbing back into the patient's skin until it had vanished completely. As soon as the magical presence had abated, Lucius gasped, oxygen flooding his stagnant lungs, and started to breathe normally once more. He slowly opened his eyes, which were now crystal clear and positively twinkling with life, and was met by three utterly astonished faces.

"Well, that was the oddest sensation I've ever felt," he said before raising his hand to his mouth in surprise. His voice was smooth and elegant, notably lacking the raspy, strained quality that had plagued him for months on end. Instinctively, his hands moved upward to his face, his eyes widening when fingertips brushed over smooth, wrinkle-free skin. He held his now steady digits out in front of him then stared down at the body that he'd nearly forgotten was once his.

"Sweet Merlin!" he exclaimed, flexing his hands and patting down his restored muscles.

"Father?" Draco asked uncertainly, still not believing what was happening. "Are you okay?"

Lucius' head shot back up, meeting his son's worried gaze. For a first time in a long time, a brilliant smile broke out across the older wizard's face and in two strides father and son were reunited in a fierce embrace.

The tears that Hermione had held back earlier fell from her eyes unchecked as she watched the emotional scene. She glanced over her shoulder at Snape, who appeared paler than normal and apparently frozen in shock. She gently laid her hand on top of the fingers that were still unconsciously wrapped around her upper arm.

"It worked, Professor," she assured him quietly. "It worked and it was more amazing than I could've ever imagined."

He had barely enough time to release his grip and jerk his hand away from hers before Lucius pulled the shocked man into an intense hug. The wizard seemed to revive at the contact and after a moment, returned his friend's embrace, his eyes glinting at his student over the blond's shoulder.

"You did it, Severus! You really did it!" the older man gushed. "How am I ever going to thank you?"

The two men broke apart and Severus looked his friend in the eye. "You know there's no need to thank me, Lucius. I'm just relieved that it worked."

Overcome with emotion, the Gryffindor turned her back on the wizards before hearing Lucius' reply and sought out the Head Boy, tears still streaming down her face. Draco's cheeks were suspiciously wet as well as he met her gaze, uncertain as to what he should say to the bushy-haired witch. Resisting the ingrained desire to prevent vulnerability at all cost, he held out his hand to the girl, a mirrored image of her actions the previous night and the tentative gesture that he had once, years ago, offered her scar-headed friend.

Though he didn't say anything, Hermione sensed that the Slytherin's extended arm was an expression of gratitude and relief as well as a slightly-battered olive branch of friendship. With a tearful smile, she accepted his hand and gladly laid another hard-earned plank on the bridge that was slowly forming between them.

Unable to stand the awkward pleasantry a moment longer, Draco released her hand and went to thank his godfather. Even though neither of them had ever been big on physical displays of affection, the Potions Master soon found himself with armful of Malfoy scion.

Lucius chuckled at the expression on Severus' face before sweeping the small witch into his arms and hugging her tightly, obliterating any remaining doubts she had as to the sincerity of his change of heart. The Lucius Malfoy of the past wouldn't have hugged a Mudblood for all the Galleons in Gringotts.

"Thank you, Miss Granger, for everything," he whispered into her ear, his voice cracking with emotion this time, instead of pain. "How could I have been so wrong about you? Can you ever forgive my foolish prejudice?"

Hermione considered this as best she could in her emotional state. Could she trust this man after everything he had put her through, after all the pain and misery he had been a part of? She searched out the professor's dark eyes over Lucius shoulder and immediately found her answer. The only reply she could manage was a weak and watery nod as more tears ran down her face.

* * *

A/N: When I picture Lucius' transformation in my head, it always looks like the scene from the cartoon version of Beauty & the Beast where the Beast turns back into the prince. XD

Also, be prepared for Lucius to be out of character in this story, sometimes wildly so. He was just yanked back from the cusp of death and has been through a lot in the years preceding. Those types of things would surely change a person.


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

Once the hugging had run its course, Lucius smiled at his guests and clapped his hands together, still marveling at how strong and steady they were. "I believe a celebration is in order! What do you say, Severus? How about a glass of Firewhiskey?"

The Potions Master made a face that Hermione had come to associate with someone asking an exceptionally foolish question in his class. "It's barely ten in the morning."

"But it's been nearly two years since I've been able to stomach anything stronger than watered down tea," the older wizard replied, allowing just the slightest hint of a whimper to seep through his voice. "Surely just a little wouldn't hurt anything?"

"I've been dealing with whiny children for far too long to be impressed by your weak attempt at a guilt trip, Lucius." Severus rolled his eyes at the small pout that formed on his friend's face before conceding with a sigh. "I don't believe, however, that _one_ glass would have any adverse effects."

The blond flashed a mischievous grin and immediately summoned the house-elf that had greeted them in the foyer earlier. A second later, a loud crack echoed through the library, announcing the creature's prompt arrival.

"Master is calling for Popkins?" the little elf asked, her long nose bent awkwardly into the plush carpet.

"I've told you that there's no need to bow, Popkins," Lucius chided kindly, causing Hermione's eyes to widen in surprise. If Dobby's stories were to be believed, and the former president of S.P.E.W. knew that they were, things had certainly changed at Malfoy Manor.

The elf stood obediently and her large eyes nearly popped out of their wrinkly sockets when she saw the wizard before her. "Master!" she squeaked, obviously overcome with joy. "You is being handsome again!"

Lucius beamed and flipped his silky hair over his shoulder, eliciting a snort from the raven-haired man behind him. "Yes, it seems I've been completely healed," he said, ignoring the professor's tactlessness. "Thanks to our guests."

The small servant bounced up and down on her crooked little toes. "The elves is feeling the magic but Popkins is not knowing that Master is being made better!"

She stepped closer to Lucius, held up a gnarled hand, and began to wave it through the air directly in front of the wizard as a gentle humming noise issued from her throat. After a moment, her smile grew even wider. "Master Snape and the Miss is doing a very good job!"

Hermione frowned at the little creature despite the compliment, wondering how she was able to reach such a conclusion. She knew that house-elves possessed a different type of magic and could, in instances of extreme need, be quite powerful, but she had never read anything about elves having healing or diagnostic abilities.

"Yes, I have to agree," Lucius replied before the studious witch could interrupt. "I was hoping that you could find some Firewhiskey for the four of us. We have a lot to celebrate!"

The elf nodded enthusiastically and said, "Yes, Master. Popkins is being right back!" before bowing deeply and Disapparating.

As they waited for Popkins' return, Hermione's burgeoning curiosity reared its head. "Does she have diagnostic powers? I didn't know that house-elves had that ability."

Lucius spun around to face the inquisitive girl and grinned at the spark of interest in her eyes. "In normal circumstances, they don't. Popkins, however, is able to read both my physical and magical auras, so her assessment is most assuredly correct."

Her brow knitted as she tried to compare his answer to what she already knew about Elfin Magic. " _Why_ is she able to do that?" she asked when no reasonable conclusion came to mind.

It was Snape that spoke up this time, using his dry teaching voice to respond to her question. "That particular house-elf is bound to Lucius personally, not just the house or the family as a whole. Due to that unusual connection, she has the ability to evaluate his condition and provide limited medical assistance."

His answer, though straightforward and precise, left Hermione even more confused but before she could press him further, the elf in question Apparated back into the library, this time bearing a silver tray with four tumblers of Ogden's finest.

"Ah, Popkins! Wonderful, wonderful!" the eldest Malfoy exclaimed happily as he approached the elf and began to pass the glasses amongst Draco and their guests.

"Popkins is telling Nimsy and Timsy that Master is being healed. They is being very excited!" she squeaked.

Lucius smiled again. "Very good. I'd like for the three of you to see to the opening of all the windows and relighting the house. We've been in the dark long enough." To illustrate his point, the wizard flicked his wand and turned the numerous lamps in the library on full power. "I'd also like you to bring down the large mirror from my chambers."

"Yes, sir. Popkins is being right back." In another clap of thunder, she was gone again.

The Lord of the Manor turned back to his guests and smiled at each of them in turn — his only son, his oldest friend, and the girl that he had harshly misjudged. He raised the glass in his hand. "I'd like to propose a toast. To old friends and new, and to miracles that we never thought would happen."

Hermione, who refused to cry again in front of the Slytherin men, clinked her glass with theirs and took a cautious sip of the amber liquid, grimacing slightly as it burnt its way down her throat. She had never cared for Firewhiskey or any alcohol, outside of the occasional sip of wine, but if she hoped to prove her maturity to a certain dark-haired wizard this weekend, refusing the beverage or sputtering from its effects wasn't the way of going about it.

By the time the men's tumblers were empty, Popkins had reappeared, levitating a huge silver frame through the doorway. When the mirror was turned around, the Muggle-born was surprised to see that the surface was pitch-black, just like the "portrait" she had been so intrigued by earlier. The faint memory of visiting an elderly neighbor's home while they sat Shivah flitted through her mind, and suddenly it all made sense. As an overly-curious six-year-old, she had been fascinated by the veiled mirrors throughout the house of mourning. Apparently, the magically-voided ones here had served a similar purpose.

Lucius thanked the house-elf and dismissed her and the whiskey glasses before pointing his wand at the inky surface and muttering a quick incantation. The embellished frame glowed a silvery-blue for a moment until the magic ward lifted and revealed the reflection of the man in front of it.

"As devilishly handsome as always," a sleepy feminine voiced issued from the mirror as if it had just woken up from a long nap.

Snape snorted again but the blond ignored him and grinned brightly at the mirror as he studied his rejuvenated features from every angle. "Gods, Severus. This is amazing!"

While the Slytherin became engrossed in his reflection, Hermione quietly slipped away from the group, allowing her earlier instincts to lead her to the nearest bookshelf. She'd be kicking herself later on if she missed this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to peruse such a vast library.

From his position near the fire, Severus watched the little know-it-all immerse herself amongst the towering wall of books and after a few moments of talking with his godson decided to join her.

"Lucius will know who's to blame should any of them go missing," he murmured from behind her, purposely trying to startle the girl again.

Resisting the urge to jump at the unexpected distraction, Hermione turned to the stealthy wizard and grinned. "It really is an impressive collection."

He nodded and ran his fingertips over a few of the spines, unknowingly mimicking one of her frequent habits. "The Malfoys have an impressive wealth," he replied. "This is one of their wiser investments, as opposed to those bloody birds outside." She giggled and turned back to the leather-bound tomes.

Unbeknownst to anyone else, the girl's laughter caught the attention of Draco, who was surprised to see the pair standing so close together again, looking suspiciously cozy, too. The more he saw the two of them together, especially outside of the classroom, the more he began to question the nature of their relationship. Gryffindors, as a rule, loathed Severus, and for good reason — the man was a right bastard to them. He had been particularly nasty to Granger for as long as the Head Boy could remember, increasingly more so this year, yet there she stood, laughing and smiling at the wizard like a complete fool. And his godfather, who, by all rights, shouldn't be willingly within a twenty-foot range of his most annoying student, was gazing back at the girl, looking for all the world like he wanted to do something utterly ridiculous, like stroke the curly disaster she called hair. There had to be more to the situation than either of their vague excuses had alluded to.

"I wanted to thank you, Miss Granger, for accepting Lucius' apology. It was quite noble of you," Severus commented quietly, his dark eyes darting to the shelves in front of him to keep himself from staring too long at the petite witch. Why did he feel so nervous all of a sudden?

Hermione felt her heart skip a beat as she turned to the wizard again. "I think _noble_ is a bit of an overstatement. It was easy to see that he's sincere. Accepting his apology was the only decent thing to do."

Severus met her gaze, for once admiring those traits which made her distinctively Gryffindor instead of detesting them. "There aren't many who would be so willing to forgive."

The Head Girl had the odd feeling that he was referring to himself as much as his fair-haired friend and she responded to both without hesitation. " _Everyone_ deserves a second chance, Professor. More often than not, it's worth it."

An odd emotion flashed through his ebony eyes but before he could say anything else, Lucius called his name from across the room. Hermione watched in confusion as the normally composed professor spun around, looking as if he had just been caught doing something illicit rather than merely talking with a student. As he walked away without another word, she had to wonder what his reaction said about his state of mind.

"Will you be staying for lunch, Severus?" Lucius asked from his preening stance in front the mirror once the other wizard had joined him.

Snape nodded. "I think it'd be wise to monitor you for a while to make sure that there aren't any residual side effects or seizures. That is, if you don't mind us being here?"

"Of course not. It's been ages since I've had company, though I don't think much monitoring will be necessary. I feel marvelous. Better than I have in years!"

As a house-elf was summoned to insure that a suitable meal would be prepared, Draco went to harass the Muggle-born witch, who was steadily moving further along the endless shelves. Messing with her would have to be more entertaining than watching his father primp and perhaps she'd even let something slip about Snape if he got her flustered enough. Smiling devilishly, he sidled up beside her. "I'll be checking your person for suspicious, book-sized lumps when we leave, Granger."

Hermione turned to him with an amused scowl. "Why is it that everyone thinks my love of the written word would cause me to resort to thievery?"

"It probably has something to do with the lustful gleam in your eye," he whispered conspiratorially, "or the hint of drool at the corner of your mouth."

Even though she knew he was just teasing, her hand unconsciously rose to wipe her cheek, causing the boy's smirk to deepen. She scowled and dropped her hand.

"You're really lucky to have grown up with all of this knowledge at your disposal, Draco. No wonder you've got the _second_ highest grades in the school," she teased in kind. Two could play at this game and she had learned from the best.

Draco tipped his head in response to her comeback but figured it'd be best to stay on the more friendly side of the fence — keep your enemies closer and whatnot. "Actually, I wasn't allowed to touch a single book in here until after my first year of Hogwarts. I had my own miniature library upstairs, though, with more child-friendly volumes. _Beedle the Bard_ and the like."

Hermione grinned, feeling a little more comfortable around the Slytherin now that she knew that he could handle a little mockery. "That makes sense. You were probably a rotten, destructive little kid."

His sarcastic reply, which was sure to involve a monstrous description of her own frizzy-haired childhood, was cut off by the boy's father speaking loud enough to garner everyone's attention. "I believe I fancy a walk outdoors before we eat. I haven't seen the garden in ages."

"That sounds lovely!" the Head Girl replied enthusiastically, and for more reasons than simply winning the current conversation with her classmate. She had been eager to explore the beautiful grounds surrounding the mansion ever since she had arrived and didn't hesitate in telling the Lord of the Manor so.

Lucius turned to the witch with a bright smile and gallantly offered his arm. "Shall we, then, Miss Granger?"

"Only if you stop calling me 'Miss Granger'." She purposely kept her gaze from falling anywhere near the Potions Master as she crossed the library, yet she couldn't help but tease him a bit. "Makes me feel like I'm about to receive detention."

The blond smirked. "Can't have that now, can we?" He tucked her small hand into the crook of his arm. "You know, I've always liked the name Hermione. It has a certain theatrical ring to it."

And with that, the pair of them started towards the exit, arm-in-arm, like they had never been enemies at all.

"Am I the only one that finds this strange?" Draco asked, looking up at his godfather questioningly. "Aren't they supposed to hate the very sight of each other?"

Severus' eyes were narrowed on the couple as they passed through the large double doors and disappeared. Something about their carefree discourse had made his chest constrict and he wasn't altogether sure why. "I suppose it's not any stranger than the rest of the morning has been."

The girl's tinkling laughter suddenly floated through from the corridor and filled the now-scowling wizard with the sudden urgency to find out what was so bloody funny. He practically sprinted away in order to catch up with the pair.

Still confused as to when, exactly, the whole house had gone mad, the Head Boy shook his head and trailed after the professor's unusually quick footsteps.

Once the reunited group had exited the manor, Lucius led them through an ivy-covered archway that opened into the most amazing garden Hermione had ever seen. Plants, bushes, trees, and flowers of every variety imaginable seem to stretch out before her like a modern-day Garden of Eden. Faeries and multi-colored butterflies flitted through the fragrant air, dancing to the sound of birds singing in the distance.

As awe-inspiring as the scene was, though, the Gryffindor's first question was surprisingly completely unrelated to her surroundings. "What did the transformation feel like, Lucius?"

"Incredibly odd, actually," he replied as he led her through the foliage. "As soon as I swallowed the potion, everything went black. I could hear everyone talking around me — your startled declaration that I wasn't breathing and Severus' rather harsh correction — but it sounded as if you were at the end of a very long, dark tunnel. I couldn't see or feel anything. In fact, I'm not entirely sure that I was even conscious. Then all at once, my senses came back to me, like someone had lifted the veil. I didn't realize that anything had actually changed until I heard my own voice."

"So, it was like you were in some sort of suspended animation throughout the whole thing?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

Hermione glanced over her shoulder at the Potions Master, hoping he was paying attention to their discussion. After receiving a slight nod of confirmation, she turned back to the elder Malfoy. "That's really fascinating."

"Mmm... And now I feel like a teenager again! Free from the pain, free from the Dark Lord." He released her arm and loped down the serpentine path in front of them, tapping his silver-tipped cane against the pavers. "It's a glorious feeling!"

Hermione and Draco both laughed out loud at the older man's antics while Snape's expression was one of mingled exasperation and amusement. "You're supposed to be convalescing, Lucius, not skipping around like a blasted schoolgirl!"

"I take offense to that, Professor," the witch said with a grin as she fell into step between him and Draco. "I happen to be a schoolgirl and not only have I not skipped in many years; I don't think that I've ever done it with that much flamboyance." She gestured towards the pure-blood, who proved her point by practically pirouetting across the stone, his hair shining in the sunlight as it spun with his movement.

"You've never been a _normal_ schoolgirl, Miss Granger. Not as long as I've known you, at least."

As it always was with him, Hermione couldn't quite determine if his words were meant as a compliment or an insult. This time, however, she decided to ask for clarification instead of swallowing the question. How was she ever to understand the dubious wizard otherwise? She glanced up at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Severus looked down at the girl and could feel the corners of his mouth twitch. If she was expecting a Slytherin to English translation, she was sadly mistaken. "It simply means that I've had the great misfortune to teach _hundreds_ of schoolgirls over the years and can safely say that _you_ are one of a kind. Take that as you will."

Stunned, she tried to look up at him again while continuing to walk and hopefully not make a fool of herself. His black eyes glittered in the sun. Was he actually flirting with her? Surely not. Surely her delusional mind was just playing tricks on her. His so-called clarification could have just as easily implied that she was some sort of freak. Still, there had been a vague ring of approval in his tone. She let out a nervous chuckle. "I'm just going to assume that _that_ was a compliment."

The wizard had the nerve to smirk. "As I said, take it as you will."

Beside them, Draco, who had been playing close attention to their exchange, narrowed his pale eyes on the stone beneath him. Suspicions confirmed, as far as he was concerned. He was familiar enough with his godfather's behavior and questionable methods of praise to know that something major had to be going on in order for him to pay the Muggle-born that type of compliment. She might not have seen it for what it was, but he certainly did.

"Is that _black_ hellebore?" Hermione suddenly exclaimed, pointing to a plant low to the ground on the right side of the walkway. She crossed behind the professor for a better look and both wizards stopped to watch her crouch down before the stunted little plant. "I've never seen black hellebore growing naturally." She looked up at the Potions Master questioningly. "I thought only the green variety grew in England. Isn't this species indigenous to Asia Minor?"

Snape nodded at his astute little protégé. "You'll find a great number of plants in these gardens that aren't native to this country. Lucius has spared no expense to accumulate such a collection and many of these varieties only grow here because of extensive habitat-imitation charms."

She stood up and scanned the flower beds in front of her, recognizing several plants from her Potions research that wouldn't normally thrive in the dreary British climate. "Does Mr. Malfoy brew or is this merely further indulgences of his _exotic taste_?"

Severus snorted. "No, he's never had much of an interest in Potions, except when they benefited him, of course. These gardens belonged to Narcissa. She enjoyed brewing and Lucius indulged _her_." A small sigh escaped him. "These days their main purpose is only aesthetic appeal, I'm afraid, though I do occasionally obtain ingredients here when the local apothecary's supplies are less than satisfactory."

"Don't forget the entertainment value," Draco added. "There's a huge Devil's Snare behind the house that tries to attack the peacocks from time to time. It's quite amusing."

Hermione laughed and slipped back into her place between the two men, finding herself growing more comfortable there with every passing breath. When she glanced up, however, the fourth member of their little group was nowhere to be seen.

"Where'd he go?" she asked, standing on her tiptoes to peer over the hedges.

Her classmate looked around and shrugged slightly. "Skipped off somewhere, apparently," he replied with a roll of his eyes. "I'll go find him."

To fill the awkward silence that was left after the blond had sauntered away, Severus began to point out the more abstract plant life amongst the beds that they passed, engaging his N.E.W.T. level student in a conversation of their uses in his field. He wasn't let down by her level of intelligence, either. Not only did she retain every bit of information he had ever given her in class but she also knew a vast amount about topics that had never been taught during her time at Hogwarts. It was quite obvious by her eager participation in the discussion that she truly enjoyed the branch of magic that was so close to his own heart and had spent a great deal of time studying it outside of his tutelage. Those two facts not only gave him a rare feeling of pride but also validated several of his recent decisions, including bringing her here.

* * *

As Draco walked away, part of him wondered what his godfather and the Gryffindor Muggle-born would talk about in his absence. The rest of him was afraid to even think about it. As he saw it, there were only two possible explanations for their behavior, or more specifically, Severus' behavior, today. Either his godfather had a thing for the bushy-haired know-it-all and she was merely playing along to strengthen her grades in his class or some such objective or they really did fancy each other. Not knowing enough about the girl that he had spent his life trying to belittle, Draco really couldn't tell which explanation was more plausible and quite frankly, the thought of either of them turned the boy's stomach.

Draco wondered what would be the easiest way to uncover the truth behind whatever game they were playing. He knew that it was pointless to ask his godfather about it; he had tried that avenue before, only to be shot down with a concise, reasonably believable excuse. If he were to broach the subject again with the former spy, his reception was sure to be far less hospitable. He'd, therefore, have to turn his Slytherin tactics to the feminine half of the equation instead. Though she had feigned innocence once before, he felt more confident in his abilities to guile the truth out of her than the tight-lipped wizard.

When the Seeker passed through an opening in the yew hedges, he finally spotted the elusive Lord of the Manor sitting on a stone bench in front of the larger of two water fountains on the property, staring pensively into the pool at the statue's base. Afraid that something had gone terribly wrong, all other thought flew from his mind as Draco hastened his pace. "Father? What's the matter? What happened? Should I go fetch Severus?"

Lucius looked up to see his son sprinting towards him and he smiled. "I'm fine, little Dragon," he replied, watching the boy's stance relax in response to the childhood moniker. "Come sit with me for a moment."

The younger wizard quickly crossed the distance to the bench and sat before looking at his father questioningly. The redness in the older man's gray-blue eyes caused his diminishing worry to swell again but he held his tongue. His place in the Malfoy hierarchy was to be silent and obedient. Though his mother had always allowed him to speak to his mind, he had never enjoyed such leniency with his father. Before his illness, the man had been a strict disciplinarian, leading by the pure-blood code of conduct that had been ingrained into him as a child and Draco had little doubt that that quality had been restored along with everything else.

"My emotions have quite run away with me today," Lucius apologized quietly, still staring into the rippling water. "I haven't been out here since your mother's death and now that I am... I find that her spirit still permeates every inch of this place."

Draco slowly let out the breath he'd been holding since he sat down. Nothing was wrong. Nothing had happened to negate the potion's success. The man was simply missing his wife. His parents had had a good marriage and though they didn't often express it outside of the manor, they had loved each other very much. It was understandable that his father would still be grieving the loss.

"I really wish she could've been here today," the older man murmured, "to see me like this."

"Me too."

"It would've been quite humorous to see Severus put her in a Full Body-Bind just to keep her from tackling him," Lucius remarked, trying to shake off his sudden melancholy.

Draco chuckled, knowing that that was exactly what would've happened. His mother, though normally the composed, dignified woman that a pure-blood witch was supposed to be, had had the tendency to get overly excited about things and his godfather, a man who strongly disliked being touched, had often been the victim of her enthusiasm. The day her only son had received his letter from Hogwarts, for example, Severus had tied the witch to an armchair after she had smothered his face in ruby-red kisses and had refused to release her until Lucius got home from the Ministry. Draco had nearly wet himself laughing that day.

"I'd also be interested in hearing her opinions of Miss Granger," Lucius added. "No doubt she would've been quite fond of the girl."

"Mother always was one for _pet_ projects," the boy replied, sarcasm lacing his tone.

The patriarch chuckled, the rich sound of his laughter dancing around them both, a vivid reminder of what had transpired that morning. "That she was." He stood up and dusted off the seat of his robes. "And what has become of Severus and our dear Gryffindor visitor?"

"Merlin only knows," Draco replied, mimicking his father's actions and standing up beside him. "I wouldn't be surprised if they were off snogging in the rose bushes."

"What?" Lucius exclaimed, spinning around to face his son and causing his hair to whip across his face. "Surely you're jesting!"

The younger blond snorted. "Yes, I'm kidding, but the idea isn't completely unfathomable considering their behavior lately."

"What kind of behavior? Severus would sooner poison himself than consort with a student."

With a chuckle that sounded very much like his father's, Draco led the way back to where he had left their guests, filling his father in on the strange occurrences that he'd witnessed over the past few weeks and, more importantly, that morning. He was pretty sure that no one knew Snape as well as his father did and adding that type of intimate knowledge along with an additional Slytherin mind could prove immensely helpful in coercing the truth out of them.

By the time the two Malfoy men came across the pair in question, who happened to be crouched mere inches from each other, studying a rare patch of red-tipped fluxweed, Lucius found himself feeling both amused with the situation and suspicious of his friend's recent conduct. He simply couldn't believe that the emotionally-barren former spy would be trying to court the seemingly innocent little Gryffindor. He had to admit, though, that this degree of intimacy with a student, any student, was completely out of character. It appeared that a serious discussion between the two old friends was long overdue.

Once the father and son team were able to drag the witch and wizard away from their botany discussion, Lucius linked arms with the young Muggle-born again and led the foursome back into the manor. It was nearly noon and his rejuvenated digestive system suddenly had him famished.

Now that the house was properly lit and bright sunshine streamed through the open windows, Hermione was finally able to appreciate the full scope of the mansion's beauty. The cold, empty feeling was gone, replaced by warm furnishings that weren't the least bit flashy or pretentious. Each room seemed to quietly urge its visitors to curl up in a cozy chair and enjoy a nice cup of tea. In fact, if it wasn't for the nosey and occasionally sneering portraits on the walls, she could almost believe that they were in her parent's house, even if Malfoy Manor was easily three times the size of the Grangers' modest home. It was quite a surprising discovery.

After leading the miniature parade through several rooms, Lucius pushed open a large set of wooden doors to reveal the family's dining room. The elongated chamber was smaller than the Great Hall at Hogwarts but far bigger than any other dining room Hermione had ever been in. The room's main feature was, of course, the enormous table running the length of the space. Made of a dark wood polished to a high gloss and resting on intricately carved legs, the table could have comfortably sat three dozen people or more. Instead of the gas lamps that lit the rest of the house, only sunlight illuminated the dining room during the day, giving it a casual air despite its magnitude. Hermione couldn't help but imagine how lovely it must look at night with the candlelight from the chandeliers dancing across the dark, glassy surface of the table.

Lucius led the curly-haired girl down to the far end of the room before taking his place at the head of the table. Severus immediately sat on his friend's left and Draco on his father's right, leaving her to take the chair next to her classmate.

Four silver-lidded plates had already been laid out, along with an assortment of beverages. Following the patriarch's lead, the group uncovered their plates and Hermione was more than pleased with the light selection of soup and salad. After the tumultuous morning they had had, she didn't think she'd be able to handle anything too heavy or rich.

"So how do you like Malfoy Manor, Hermione?" Lucius asked conversationally.

She looked up and smiled politely at the handsome aristocrat. "Your home is beautiful. To be perfectly honest, though, it's not at all what I was expecting."

"Were you anticipating torture chambers and rooms full of Dark artifacts?" he asked with an amused grin.

Hermione chuckled. "Maybe a little."

"An understandable misconception."

"I think it's the lack of silver and green that's the most surprising, though."

Both Malfoys smirked but it was Snape who first questioned her thinking. "Do you honestly believe that all Slytherins are mandated to immerse themselves in only their house colors? Surely you wouldn't go to a Hufflepuff's home and expect to find only yellow and black?"

Her cheeks blushed lightly as she met his gaze. "I think that's the general belief amongst my housemates but obviously," she waved her hand at the dining room's rich golden walls and beautiful dark wood furnishings, "we were hopelessly off the mark."

"Indeed," the wizard agreed snidely. "Even my own chambers, which were once inhabited by Salazar Slytherin himself, have more variety than that."

Hermione shrugged and tried her best not to let her thoughts stray at the mention of his chambers. "I suppose it comes from spending so much time in Gryffindor Tower, which is nothing if not house-centric." She glanced at her fellow seventh-year. "I assume that the Slytherin dorms are much the same, right?"

Draco nodded. "Plus, we have all that green lighting from being under the lake — adds a nice eerie touch."

The Head Girl grinned, remembering that description from Harry and Ron's excursion into the dungeon common room in their second year. "I honestly haven't been in enough wizarding homes to know what to expect. Grimmauld Place had its fair share of snake motifs and Slytherin pride and it's nearly impossible to determine any theme what so ever amongst the Burrow's chaos. I guess the fact that Remus' quarters at Hogwarts aren't swathed in red and gold should have tipped me off, though he's never been as _biased_ as some of the other professors." She met Snape's eyes again and was met by a completely unexpected expression. Was that anger swirling in those deep black currents?

"And why, pray tell, are you familiar with Lupin's private chambers?" he very nearly growled.

Spurred by his godfather's obvious ire, Draco turned to gawk the witch. Was she shagging their Defense teacher too? Good gods, what the hell was going on?

The color on Hermione's cheeks deepened as she realized what they must be thinking. "It's definitely not how sounds," she said defensively, fidgeting uneasily under the three sets of suspicious eyes trained on her. "Professor Lupin is practically Harry's godfather now that Siri—" Out the corner of her eye she saw Lucius blanch at the mention of the dead Animagus' name and she quickly backpedaled. "Harry, Ron, and I have become good friends with Remus. The three of us visit him regularly in his study. It's all perfectly harmless."

Having no reason to doubt her, Lucius took the girl's stuttered explanation at face value and gave her an encouraging smile before glancing at his former comrade in arms, who was still glaring daggers across the table _._ If the jealousy evident in the wizard's expression was anything to go by, it appeared that Draco's earlier accusations had some merit.

The blond cleared his throat and attempted to steer the conversation back into friendly waters. Harry Potter, Sirius Black, and the Order's werewolf were not topics the former Death Eater felt particularly comfortable discussing amongst such a diversified group. Far too much unpleasant history there. "The manor was quite dark and ominous when I inherited it from my grandfather, more the type of stereotypical pure-blood style you were probably expecting, Hermione."

Hearing her name, she peeled her eyes from the professor's intense stare. She still wasn't quite sure what to make of his reaction. Was he angry because Remus had let students into his rooms? Or because _she_ had been one of those students? Unable to answer that, she turned her focus back to Malfoy and her lunch.

"Once Narcissa and I were married," the wizard continued, "she redecorated the entire house. She had always complained that the Slytherin colors were too dark and depressing, even when we were in school, so she quite enjoyed banishing them from here." He paused to look around the dining room as memories of his beloved wife painting their new home rushed through his mind. "The only things she couldn't get rid of were the Malfoy family portraits. They proved impossible to remove."

A sudden ghostly echo of Sirius' mother shouting insults throughout Grimmauld Place rang through her ears and caused her eyes to dart back to the man across from her. Hermione didn't think she'd ever forget the day that the normally unflappable Potions professor assaulted Mrs. Black's frame with nearly a dozen different curses after she had called him a "greasy, half-blooded coward". She had never seen the Death-Eater-turned-spy so furious and though the portrait hadn't sustained any lasting damage from his hexes, the vile old woman had never insulted him again.

"You're quite lucky on that account, Severus," Lucius said, keeping up the conversation if only to amuse himself. "All of your ancestors are confined to that one chamber at Prince Estates."

The witch glanced across the table again, this time in surprise. No one had ever told her that the professor had a home outside of Hogwarts. As far as she knew, he lived in the dungeons year-round, even when the school was closed. Prince Estates, hmm? That sounded promising.

"Thank Merlin for that," Snape replied, ignoring the Head Girl's expression. "I would've burnt the place down years ago if I had to listen to their infernal gossiping all the time. I get enough of that at the castle. Bloody paintings are a nuisance."

"At least they're silenced here."

"Oh! I was wondering why none of them had shouted at me yet," Hermione chimed in, having only just understood that particular puzzle. "I just figured they were in shock from seeing a Muggle-born in their midst."

Lucius chuckled, relieved by the girl's cavalier attitude towards his family's prejudices. During his imposed isolation over the past year and a half, the pure-blood wizard had done a great deal of soul searching and had finally realized how nonsensical the whole notion of blood status was and how ridiculous he had been for believing in it. Being cursed within an inch of his life by the very man he had sworn allegiance to had had a great deal to do with this epiphany. When Snape told him that it had been Granger, a Muggle-born and elite member of the Golden Trio, that had discovered the final element of the Cruciatus potion, gaining her forgiveness had been foremost on his mind.

"Yes, I'm sure they would have a whole host of nasty things to say to you, my dear," he replied. "Thankfully, Narcissa placed a permanent Silencing Charm on them ages ago, even before Draco was born. They were a great bunch of bores anyway."

"Well, judging by the amazing gardens and what I've seen of the house so far, your wife had exquisite taste," she said, figuring that a compliment wouldn't go amiss with the wizard who obviously doted on the late witch.

Lucius beamed, the girl's words had hit their mark. "Yes, she certainly did. She chose me after all, didn't she?" He flipped his silky, golden locks over his shoulder again, a vain gesture that Hermione was starting to recognize as a trademark of the eldest Malfoy.

Snape snorted. "I still marvel at that spectacular lapse in judgment on her part."

The older wizard sneered in his friend's direction before turning back to his feminine guest with a smile. "Perhaps Draco can be persuaded into giving you a proper tour after lunch."

"I'd really like that," she replied, flashing a solicitous smile towards her classmate.

The Seeker glanced up from his soup to his father and then to the grinning witch beside him. He rolled his eyes at her enthusiasm but was silently pleased with the idea. The guise of a tour would give him just the opportunity he needed to grill the Gryffindor away from his godfather and the two morons that seemed to be permanently attached to her side at school. "I suppose I could handle that," he drawled.

"Wonderful! Then that will give us old men a chance to talk," Lucius said, slapping Snape on the shoulder. Hermione couldn't help but giggle at the look of indignation on the professor's face.

"Need I remind you, Lucius, that while _you_ may have reached old age, I'm still several years your junior."

The blond smirked. "Ah, yes, but thanks to that glorious little elixir of yours, I'm vastly better looking once again."

Another derisive snort issued from the dark-haired wizard. "It seems that it restored you over-inflated ego as well."

"That credit goes to you as well, dear friend. You're nothing if not a gifted Potions Master."

"Speaking of credit, I need to get your impressions of said potion down on paper," Snape said, putting an end to the playful argument. "Once it's registered, I'm sure I'll be inundated with solicitations to publish the findings."

Lucius nodded. "Then you and I will work on your future fifteen minutes of fame whilst the young people amuse themselves."

Severus tipped his head in acceptance and Hermione smiled into her pumpkin juice. Keeping up with their banter was like watching a Muggle tennis match, only far more amusing, and she was really enjoying herself. Unfortunately, she never saw the foul ball making a beeline for her head, hell bent on irreversibly complicating her day.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN**

True to his word, the Head Boy took Hermione on a tour of Malfoy Manor directly after lunch. Once the adolescent members of their party had disappeared through the concealed door at the back of the dining room, the two older Slytherins placed their bets against the likelihood of the classmates getting through the excursion without hexing one another. Between Draco's arrogance and the Muggle-born witch's tenacity, they both knew that the chances of a peaceful afternoon were fairly low.

"They claimed that they've resolved their differences," Severus said as he stood from the table and straightened his robes, "but if Draco doesn't keep his attitude in check, Miss Granger is liable to do it for him."

Lucius shook his head and stood up as well. "You do realize that you're championing a Gryffindor instead of your own godson, don't you?"

"It's the intelligent bet," Snape replied coolly. "The girl has far more concentration and experience than Draco."

"Surely not. Draco's had private dueling lessons since he was ten years old."

"Yes, but outside of the occasional childish squabble at school, he's never had any practical experience. Miss Granger, on the other hand, has been fighting our former comrades for years. She took on Dolohov and Yaxley by herself during the final battle, for Merlin's sake," the former spy argued as they made their way back to the library, a touch of wonderment evident in his voice. "Yaxley bled to death and I doubt that Antonin will ever walk again even if he does make it out of Azkaban. Your son doesn't stand a chance if that witch really wants to do him harm."

Despite the fact that those were men Lucius had once considered friends, the blond wizard smirked. There was no love lost for that band of mask-wearing fools and hearing the Potions Master enthusiastically endorse a student that he had complained about for years was more than amusing enough to supersede any lingering remorse in the pure-blood. "Perhaps it's a good thing that I apologized to her immediately then," he remarked with a dry chuckle.

* * *

When Draco led her out of the dining room, Hermione expected something impressive, even amazing, considering the magical wards on the door that hadn't been visible a moment before they had stepped through it, but found herself, instead, in an ordinary, albeit enormous, kitchen. That, however, was the only glimpse of it she got because no sooner had the door swung shut behind them then a tiny house-elf, significantly younger than the one she had been introduced to earlier, materialized out of thin air and shooed them away.

"The kitchens is being no place for young ones!" it squeaked while practically flinging them out into a narrow hallway.

"Yes, well, that was the kitchen," Draco announced unnecessarily once the elf had disappeared behind the door. "Most likely the last you'll ever see of it, too. Nimsy and Timsy don't like us messing about in there. I was nearly fourteen before I even knew where the kitchen was."

She shook her head in amusement. It was strange to think how different the Head Boy's childhood must have been from that of her own or even Harry and Ron's. Some of her favorite memories had been made in her parent's kitchen, helping her mother bake Christmas cookies or watching her father prepare Sunday brunch. Harry's loathsome Muggle relatives had treated him like a slave in their kitchen and one couldn't step foot inside the Burrow without being assigned some sort of mealtime chore or another by Molly Weasley.

"Right, then," he said, starting off down the deserted corridor. Considering the fading paint, threadbare carpet and windowless walls, it appeared to a servant passage rather than a route used by the family on a regular basis. "There isn't much more to see on the first floor." He waved his hand at a curiously small door to their left that looked more like a glorified mouse hole than an actual entrance to anything. "The elves' chambers," he said by way of an explanation, "but we aren't allowed in there either. Then there's the ballroom. Do you have any interest in seeing that?"

Hermione nodded eagerly. "Yes, please."

The Slytherin rolled his eyes. "Girls always want to see the ballroom."

She smirked and felt like teasing the boy a bit. "From what I hear, you don't have any qualms about showing the girls _whatever_ they want to see, Draco"

With a smug grin, he replied, "Careful, Granger. That sounded dangerously close to jealousy."

The petite witch's snort mirrored their Potions professor's reaction to some of Lucius' more conceited statements that day but she chose not to enter that particular verbal minefield.

At the end of the long corridor, they came to another door, which led directly into what appeared to be a second kitchen. This one was thankfully uninhabited, allowing her to get a good look around. There were two industrial-sized ovens, several sinks, and an enormous ice box along with gleaming marble countertops and an open-faced cabinet full of silver serving platters and fine china.

"This is the butler's closet," Draco explained when he saw the girl's confused expression. "The house-elves cook in here when we have parties. It leads directly into the ballroom so the wait staff doesn't have to walk all the way from the main kitchen."

The Muggle-born nodded, still amazed that people had such amenities in their homes, and followed him through the staff entrance into pitch-black. With a wordless flick of Malfoy's wand, hundreds of candles set in four massive chandeliers flickered to life and Hermione gasped.

The ballroom was easily twice as large as the Great Hall had been after its transformation for the Yule Ball. The highly polished floors were inlaid with gold and silver designs and the marble columns throughout the room were wrapped in intricately carved grape vines and snakes that seemed to actually slither in the candlelight.

Draco pointed to the opposite end of the room where a massive archway stood, complete with emerald green carpeted steps that descended from the darkness beyond. "That's the main entrance. There's an Apparition chamber past the stairs and a Floo." He then pointed to a stage and orchestra pit on the same wall that they were standing against. "And that's obviously where whatever band Father hires plays."

Hermione walked out into the middle of the dance floor and spun slowly on the spot, taking in the grandness of it all. "This is amazing."

"The ceiling can be charmed like the one at Hogwarts to reflect the sky," he told her in a bored tone, "but I don't know the incantation. I'm sure you can envision it well enough."

She nodded and closed her eyes for a moment, picturing how beautiful the room would look full of elegantly dressed witches and wizards dancing under a starlit canopy. She couldn't help but imagine herself dancing amongst them with the saturnine man down the hall, his skillful hands holding her close and guiding their bodies in time with the music. She unconsciously began to sway to the slow waltz that played in her head as the daydream enveloped her.

Draco watched the witch curiously for a moment, his head slightly cocked to the side but his face otherwise unreadable. What was it about a ballroom that could turn the entire female gender into sappy, hopeless romantics? He had seen women of all ages and social statuses do exactly what his schoolmate was doing right now and he just couldn't understand the appeal. Maybe the effect was lost on him because of all the Death Eaters he had seen traipse through here over the years, dressed in their wizarding best and acting for all the world as if there wasn't blood on their hands.

"Imagining a certain dark-haired wizard, are we, Granger?" the Slytherin asked, manipulating the situation to suit his needs.

Hermione's body froze on the spot as if petrified, the only movement coming from her suddenly pounding heart and the spinning wheels in her mind. Her eyes shot open and focused intently on his curled lip. "Excuse me?"

Draco's smirk deepened and he decided to string her along a little further. It was always fun to see a Gryffindor crack, after all. "Krum, maybe? Reliving your one moment of glory? The day that you finally got that ridiculous hair of yours to behave itself."

She let out a soft whoosh of air as her body visibly relaxed at his flippant insult. He didn't know. Of course, he didn't know. Who would ever suspect her of fantasizing about the greasy bat of the dungeons?

"We're not all lucky enough to have endless supplies of whatever slime you use to plaster your hair down with, Malfoy," she retorted with a scowl, though her relief smothered most of the sting out of her words.

He ran his hand threw his golden locks, which hadn't been gelled back in years, thank you very much, and ignored her rather pitiful comeback. "How did you manage that one, anyway?" he asked. The girl's rumored affair with the Quidditch star had been a Slytherin source of speculation for years. "I tried several times to talk to Krum, invited him to parties in the dungeons, and he would barely even acknowledge me."

Hermione chuckled and walked back towards him, the magic of her moment on the dance floor irrevocably lost. "Yes, Viktor told me about that. He hated people fawning over him."

Draco made a face. What was the point of being famous if you didn't enjoy the adulation?

"He once told me the reason he asked me to the ball was because I was the only one in the school who seemed to either not know who he was or just didn't care."

The wizard unsealed the charmed door and ushered her through before dousing the lights in the ballroom. " _Did_ you know who he was?"

"Of course I did. I'm best friends with two Quidditch-obsessed boys and I saw him play in the World Cup that year. But I've never really cared much for the game, so his Wonky Faint thing didn't really impress me."

"It's _Wronski Feint_ ," Draco scoffed, much like Harry and Ron did whenever she showed her ignorance of their favorite sport.

"Whatever," she replied, walking back through the butler's closet. No matter what it was called, it was still just a silly trick on a broomstick.

"Still, there must've been something going on between the two of you. You were the one thing that he'd _sorely miss_ and all that rot."

Hermione shrugged casually. She wasn't about to give any details on her and Viktor's short-lived tryst, even though there really wasn't all that much to tell. "We were friends and I suppose I was easier to convince to participate than his parents, who didn't speak a word of English. It wasn't like we were in love or anything. The only reason I agreed to go to the ball with him in the first place was to get back at Ron for not asking me."

"You and the Weasel?" the blond asked in a tone that clearly showed his distaste for such a notion. "I thought you at least had the good sense to go for the _Chosen One_." His lip curled into a sneer as he pronounced the infamous adage.

"Harry's always been like a brother to me," she replied, scrunching up her nose. "I _used to_ have a bit of a thing for Ron but I got over that quick enough."

Again, Draco saw an opportunity to confront her and being the good Slytherin that he was, he seized it. "So who does the Head Girl fancy now?"

Hermione's cheeks blushed ever-so-slightly but she hadn't lied to her best friends for months to simply hand over all her secrets to her former enemy. She grinned at him. "Why, Draco? Looking for a date?"

"Hardly," he snorted, annoyed by how easily she had thrown off his question, before pointing down the hall. "We have to go back to the foyer if you want to see upstairs."

"So has your family held a lot of glamorous balls here?" she asked conversationally as they headed down the back hall again.

"We used to have them all the time, not that I was allowed to attend many."

She glanced over at him. "I thought that the Malfoy Prince did whatever he wanted to."

Draco smirked. "It seems that another one of your Gryffindor assumptions has failed you, then."

"Mmm... It's been a day full of those."

"If you want the truth," he continued, in answer to her earlier question, "most of the balls that have been held here since I was old enough to pay attention have been for supporters of the Dark Lord. My mother didn't want me anywhere near them so whenever there was a party while I was home, I was sequestered in my room with the other children. Except, of course, when Father insisted on parading me around in front of his friends."

"Other children?" she asked in confusion and for a moment wondered if there were more golden-haired Malfoy descendants that she hadn't heard of yet.

Draco rolled his eyes. Stupidity did not become her. "Yes, Granger, other Death Eaters had children besides my father. Most of them are the Slytherins that you and your Boy Hero have scorned for years. And I'm not the only one who had a mother that wanted something better for their child than groveling at the feet of a madman."

Shocked by his honesty, Hermione nodded but remained quiet. Harry and Ron, the Order, and at certain times even Dumbledore, had written off their school rivals as being the enemy, not worthy of a second glance. Even she had always assumed that the House of Salazar Slytherin was irredeemably separated from the rest them by their arrogance and delusions of grandeur, but the wizard's words made it seem like there had been at least one Slytherin that might have benefited from an alliance. Guilt burned on the cheeks of the girl that had always prided herself on being sympathetic to the plight of the underdog.

As they passed through another door and into the foyer, Draco glanced at his companion and as if reading her thoughts, snorted. "Don't worry yourself, Granger. None of my house mates would have accepted your symbolic knitted hats, even if you had offered them."

She scowled. Did everyone know about her dismal attempt at freeing the castle's servants? "I just can't believe that no one ever realized that we might've found allies had we only asked."

He shook his head and started up the white marble staircase. "That's not how the wizarding world works. Pure-blood children of Death Eaters would've never fought for the opposing side, even if they had thought it was right."

"But why? You just said yourself that Voldemort was a madman."

"Well, he was," the Head Boy replied, unsure as to how their conversation had taken this turn but nonetheless desirous to make his point. The children of the Order, as they were, had been blind to everything outside their own little realm for far too long. He took a moment to consider how best to make her understand what it was like to be in his position.

"Let's say you were in Pansy's shoes," he proposed as they reached the top of the staircase and veered to the left. "And your father had been a Death Eater since there was such a thing and had raised you to believe in a certain set of rules of conduct. Would you throw away everything you'd ever been taught, your friends, your family, all for the sake of people that had considered you the enemy ever since you were a child? For a cause that you didn't even know would win and that probably wouldn't accept you anyway?"

Hermione had no answer to these questions. She had been dedicated to the side of the Light since she was twelve years old but before that, she didn't have a preference. Unlike pure-blood children, she had been raised without any knowledge of the magical world or any influence as to which side of the coin to choose. Had she been sorted into Slytherin or had it been Draco that saved her from the troll that Halloween night so many years ago, who's to say that she wouldn't have been on his side instead of the Boy-Who-Lived's? When it came down to it, she chose Harry's side not because it was right but because he had offered her friendship and at twelve years old, that was all that mattered. Once she was old enough to realize what they were really fighting for and against, the curly-haired witch was positive that their cause was the righteous one, but if her friends had stood for the other side she didn't know that she would've been able to willfully go against them.

When the witch didn't reply, Draco continued. "A Slytherin's main objective, in everything that we do, is self-defense – protect yourself first and worry about everyone else second. Denouncing our families' beliefs and fighting against them was not in our best interests."

They passed by several doors in route to some unknown destination but Hermione had lost all interest in the tour. She had never expected to have such a candid conversation with the boy at her side and she was more than a little surprised by what she was hearing.

"Fighting for what's right is always in your best interest," she argued, her own years of struggling against wizarding prejudices readily coming to mind.

"That's a Gryffindor mentality, Granger," he replied, his tone free of sarcasm for once. "What if the Dark Lord hadn't been defeated? What if Dumbledore or _Saint_ Potter had fallen instead? Where would that have left the turncoat Slytherins?"

"Probably dead," she admitted as she followed him through one of the doors at the end of the hall.

"Exactly. So instead, the ones that were smart or lucky enough to stay out of it completely are no worse off. The Dark Lord was defeated and we're still alive. We may have looked like cowards to your bloody Hero but is that really any different than what was thought about us before?"

Hermione glanced around the room they had entered. It appeared to be the kid-friendly library her classmate had mentioned earlier. The shelves lining the room were full of brightly illustrated covers and love-worn toys, but this time, the lure of books didn't entice the admitted bookworm in the slightest. She turned away from the shelves and back to the blond-haired wizard.

"And the ones that weren't smart or lucky enough?" she asked, fearful of what his answer would be.

As if confirming her worst thoughts, the Seeker grimaced. "Vince and Greg are dead and Theo's in Azkaban."

She gasped. "They were Death Eaters?"

He nodded. "Just like their fathers, they were too stupid to realize they were playing for the losing team. Haven't you wondered why there are so few seventh-years left?"

"Yeah, but I just figured that the others didn't come back because of their parents." This much was true. The deeply-felt need to return to a life of normalcy this year had led the Head Girl to ignore the possibility that the boys she had grown up with safely inside the walls of the castle had been lost to the allure of Voldemort's power. Despite the fact that she had fought alongside Harry as he had delivered the Killing Curse that finally reduced the most evil wizard of all time to nothing more than a snake-like corpse, she had always considered war a grown-up's game.

"If that was the case," Draco replied, "Blaise would probably be the only one finishing school this year. Millie and Pansy's fathers are both in Azkaban and you've seen firsthand how my family made out."

She nodded sadly before asking, "How did Blaise's parents stay out of the war?" She had never known much about the quiet, dark-skinned Slytherin, other than the fact that he was easily the smartest of their year after herself and the boy in front of her.

"He only has a mother and she's always remained neutral, both this go around and the last time the Dark Lord was in power. They were vacationing in France during the final battle. Blaise was probably lounging on the Riviera while the biggest magical war in a century raged over here." He smirked at the idea. "But the point is, because we protected ourselves instead of fighting in a war where we'd have lost either way, the four of us are still able to attend Hogwarts and kick Potter's ass in Quidditch."

Despite the magnitude of the recent revelations, Hermione giggled. When it really came down to it, boys were all the same. Evil megalomaniacs and war was nothing compared to sport rivalries.

The blond smirked again at the girl's reaction before turning towards the bookshelves against the far wall. She had taken his explanation rather well and it had actually felt good to get it off his chest. Perhaps that was the reason why Gryffindors spouted on about their feelings to any person stupid enough to stand still for too long.

"Can I ask a question, Draco?"

He turned to her with a mocking expression. "After watching you in class for seven years, I seriously doubt that I'd be able to stop you."

She grinned playfully before asking, "At what point did you realize that your father was on the wrong side?"

With grimace, the Slytherin faced the wall again. "The summer before last."

Hermione watched him for a minute as he scanned the titles of his childhood. Obviously she had hit on a tender subject. She wondered as to the time line of things. The summer before last would've been right after Sirius had died and the night in the Department of Ministries, when Lucius had been sent to Azkaban. _Oh._ No further explanation came and she thought it best to respect his privacy and change the topic. "Can I ask something else?"

"I don't want to discuss it, Granger," he warned, his voice strangely hollow.

She flinched slightly. "No, I understand. I just wanted to ask you about Professor Snape."

As she approached his temporarily-forgotten web like a naïve little fly, Draco's ears perked up and he spun back around. "What about him?"

Her brows knitted as she thought how best to word her question. "He's the Head of Slytherin  
House… and a member of the Order of the Phoenix."

"Yes, Granger, very good," the wizard said patronizingly, like he was talking to a small child. "Why are you telling me things I already know?"

"What I mean is he was both a Slytherin and one of the most important defenders of the Light. What was his opinion of you and the others from his House not participating in the war? Didn't he try to convince you to join our side?"

The blond pure-blood shook his head adamantly. "You're still thinking like a Gryffindor."

Hermione huffed. "I _am_ a Gryffindor!"

"Yes, I know," he snapped, suddenly feeling very drained. "But you're smarter than those other morons that you associate with. If you'd use just a little bit of that brain for something other than memorizing useless facts, perhaps you'd be able to keep up with me." Without waiting for her to respond, Draco turned away and strode out of the little library, portraying every ounce of the arrogance the Malfoy family was famous for.

In an instant, they had gone from near mutual respect back to feuding polar opposites. Hermione muttered a few choice words under her breath before taking off after the errant wizard. She trailed behind him down the hallway and into what was undeniably Draco's bedroom.

House pride certainly wasn't lacking here. The furniture was made of black mahogany, the rug and duvet were a mixture of dark green and silver and there was a Go Slytherin! pennant tacked above the bed. Similar to Ron's attic at the Burrow, there were also several Quidditch posters littering the walls, including one of Krum in his World Cup robes that made the witch roll her eyes.

Oblivious to his classmate's presence behind him, Draco crossed the room and collapsed onto his bed face down. "Hello, my old friend," she heard him mumble into the mattress. Hermione grinned as she sank down into a comfy armchair in the corner. She had the same reaction whenever she was able to sleep in her bed at her parents' house. The four-posters at Hogwarts were entirely too soft for her taste.

The blond rolled onto his side to look at her. "So, did you figure out the answer to your earlier question or do I need to spell it out for you?"

She continued to smile at him. "I've always preferred facts over assumptions."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I don't think anyone would doubt that." He twisted again on the bed until he was lying flat on his back and stared up at the ceiling. "Severus has his own reasons for his involvement in the war, personal reasons that I've never been privy to."

"Me neither," she said a bit disappointedly. "Even after we found out about his spy status, we never received a complete explanation. All we were ever told was that the Headmaster trusted him explicitly and therefore we all should."

"I doubt that anybody really knows, outside of Dumbledore and my father. But the fact remains, despite his work for your Order of the Phoenix, he was a Death Eater and knows better than anyone the dangers that his House would've faced in picking a side."

Hermione nodded, remembering what Sirius had told her and the boys about Snape. He had supposedly been younger than her and Draco were now when he first pledged his allegiance to Voldemort, before he had even left school.

"After what happened to my parents," Draco continued, "he was determined not to let me fall into the Dark Lord's grasp. It was Severus that convinced me how important staying neutral was and I spread the message amongst the upperclassmen since his precarious position prevented him from doing it himself. So many had parents under the Dark Lord's power and even I didn't know which ones were planning on following in their footsteps."

The Head Girl remained uncharacteristically quiet as she pondered over this bit of information. For the past three years, she, Harry, and Ron had thought of little more than Voldemort, Death Eaters, the Order, and war. It had encompassed everything that they did for so long, which took a toll on all of them, in more ways than one. Throughout all of that, Hermione had never even stopped to think that there were other students – outside of the rag-tag core of the DA – worrying about the same things, feeling the same sort of effects on their daily lives, just in a different sort of way. For the second time that day, she felt ashamed for what they had all been blind to.

Draco rolled back onto his side, supporting his head in his hand, and stared at her with a cocked eyebrow. "Now it's my turn to ask something, Granger," he said, intent on steering the conversation back to his original objectives, "and I'm going to forgo the art of subtlety, to which you are so unaccustomed, in favor of the rampaging Hippogriff approach that your House is known for."

She frowned and realized exactly why she had discounted the Hogwarts snakes long ago – they were all a bunch of arseholes – but since he had been so open with her, it was only fair to return the favor, at least partially. Her level of honesty would all depend on what it was he wanted to know.

Erecting her Occlumency shields just in case, Hermione spread her hands in front of her as if to say, _Give me your best shot_.

Draco smirked at the gesture before lowering the boom. "What exactly is going on between you and my godfather?"

Damn. He had gone straight for the one subject that she didn't want to discuss with anyone, especially him. As her mind raced to figure a way out of that particular conversation, she gave him her most innocent and confused look and asked, "What do you mean?"

Recognizing her game and responding the only way he knew how, the Slytherin sneered. "Don't play coy with me, Granger. I'm not one of your ignorant friends."

Her brow furrowed. "My friends are _not_ ignorant and I told you before, there's nothing going on."

"Oh bollocks! I've known Severus my entire life and I've never seen him act the way he has today."

"And that's somehow my fault?" she asked, her attempt at sounding unaffected failing even to her own ears. "He's probably been stressed about the potion. It was really dangerous, you know? I'm sure his behavior has nothing whatsoever to do with me."

"So he's been touching you and flirting with you all morning because he's stressed? Is that really the best excuse you can come up with?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she persisted weakly, unable to prevent the color rising on her cheeks. When had he started to pay so much attention to them?

Draco smirked condescendingly as he watched the witch's aloof act start to crumble. "Okay, Granger, if you want to claim ignorance towards today's little show then let's discuss the past few weeks, shall we? Surely you can't be oblivious to that as well, seeing how you've been lying to all your friends about it."

Without even bothering to wait for a response, which would undoubtedly be another feeble attempt at contrived innocence, he continued, sitting upright on the satin bedspread. "First, he's been assigning you an obscene amount of detentions lately – for the most ridiculous things, I might add – and while his attitude towards you in class _appears_ to be hateful and cruel, to those who know him best, it's downright playful."

Hermione opened her mouth and then shut it again with a snap, having no idea how to respond to that. It didn't matter anyway, because the Malfoy heir wasn't finished yet.

"Then he allows you help him with a potion, which is unheard of in and of itself, but it wasn't just any run-of-the-mill potion. It was a _personal_ experiment, one that he's been working on for ages now and that he'd refused to let even me watch even though it was created for _my_ father." He paused to catch his breath and scowl. "And today, to top it all off, he brings you here, the house of a former Death Eater who has long since been known for his hatred of Muggles and Muggle-borns and whose condition has been kept a secret from virtually everyone." He pinned the girl with an icy glare that dared her to argue with his logic. She, of course, could not.

"Now, you tell me, Granger, does that sound like normal behavior between a student and professor, regardless of which professor we're discussing?" This time he waited for her to answer and when she managed only a slight shake of her head, he dove head-first into his final point. "It's quite obvious that he's developed some sort of ill-formed attraction to you."

"I don't think—" she tried to argue but he held up his hand, cutting off her denial.

"I couldn't care less if you go around shagging Lupin for grades. You can sleep with the whole bloody school if you want, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna stand by and let you manipulate Severus' obviously delusional feelings for the sake of your sick little game!"

Hermione's eyes widened dramatically as the realization of what his tirade was actually about hit her. Good Grindylows! He thought she was running some sort of academic sex ring? How on earth had he drawn to that conclusion? "Draco, you're being ridiculous," she said insistently, "and you've got it all wrong."

"Stop denying it, Granger!" the blond shouted, finally losing his cool.

Anger flashed in her eyes as her back straightened impossibly. "I'm not denying anything, you big prat!" she shouted back. "I'm not sleeping with anyone and I'm certainly not trying to manipulate Professor Snape's feelings. I've got a crush on the infernal man, for Merlin's sake!"

As soon as the words had escaped, she gasped and quickly covered her mouth, shrinking into herself. She couldn't believe she had let that slip. Brilliant, just bloody effing brilliant. She closed her eyes and waited for the now-inevitable onslaught.

Conversely, Draco's pale blue eyes widened to a nearly painful point. He had, of course, thought that mutual attraction might be a possibility, but in light of what he saw as overwhelming evidence to the contrary and the fact that he had an ingrained distrust of all Gryffindors, he hadn't really given it serious thought. He'd been so convinced that the witch's motives were nefarious that now he wasn't sure how to react at all.

"Are you seriously telling me that you've got the hots for Severus?" he asked, hoping that maybe he had misheard her.

Hermione dropped her hands to stare at him, panic clearly written across her features. "Draco, you've got to promise not to tell anybody about this."

The boy grinned, amusement over the situation and her expression overcoming his shock. "Hell, who'd believe me?"

"I'm serious, Malfoy!" she snapped, switching quickly into damage control mode. "I'll hex you six ways to Sunday and Obliviate every second of this conversation from that arrogant brain of yours if you don't swear right this second that you won't say anything about this!"

Raising an eyebrow in response to her treat, Draco silently evaluated his chances against the female component of the Golden Trio. He was the son of a Death Eater, after all, and knew his fair share of Dark curses, but he also knew that both his father and Snape would come after him if he so much as gave the witch a bloody nose, not to mention the wrath he'd have to endure from the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Make-Him-Look-Bad. He sighed. Right, so yet another change of tactic was in order.

In an effort to put the suddenly defensive Head Girl at ease, he laid back down and stared up at the ceiling again. "Calm down, Granger. There's no need to mount an attack. You Gryffindors have to make everything so damn dramatic."

In the blink of an eye, Hermione was standing over the wizard, her wand pointed at his forehead. "Don't patronize me, Malfoy," she growled. "I want that promise. Now!"

He smirked in approval, suddenly feeling a new spark of admiration for the gutsy Muggle-born. This was a girl he could see himself becoming friends with and perhaps even a woman that stood a chance with his surly godfather, fiery and quick-witted, not the obedient, rule abiding, doormat she normally portrayed in class. He leaned up on his elbows, the tip of her wand grazing against his skin. "I promise not to tell anyone outside of this house."

She pressed the magical rod firmly between his eyes, ignoring the pure-blood's flinch. "That's not good enough. The one person that I'm most concerned about finding out is sitting downstairs."

"Alright, Granger, put the bloody wand away before you impale me with it!"

With narrowed, calculating eyes, she slipped her wand back into her robes. Draco let out a tiny sigh of relief and sat up. Motioning for the witch to sit at the foot of his bed, he asked, "Now, can we try and discuss this without you feeling the need to do me bodily harm?"

After a moment of scrutiny, she gave a hesitant nod and sat down, suspicion still evident in her features.

"So, why, precisely, can't I tell Severus?" Draco asked, making the first initiative to start again. "Because honestly, such a discussion would be like a thousand Christmases all rolled into one for me." This comment elicited a tiny smile, which fueled his continuance. "Do you fancy pining over the man for some reason? 'Cause I've already told you that he's interested in you."

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest as if they could save her from the embarrassing situation she had accidentally hurled herself into. "A: I am not pining for anyone and B: You don't know anything for sure. I've been dealing with Professor Snape's peculiar behavior for weeks now and I still don't have a clue as to what he's thinking."

For the first time, Draco believed her confusion and, strangely enough, he could empathize with her predicament. The reasoning behind Severus' actions was usually a mystery, even to those he considered family.

"I've been deciphering my godfather's moods and actions for a lot longer than you have," he replied with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "I've never seen him act so spirited with a student before, not even a Slytherin, and in all the years that I've known him, Severus has never been even remotely flirtatious with a woman, besides you." This earned him another small grin. "Most importantly, the fact that he behaved this way, not only in my presence, but in my father's as well, speaks volumes about his true motives. If he was merely trying to get you to do his grunt work like he claimed then he certainly wouldn't have brought you here today."

"His grunt work?" she repeated, crossing her legs in front of her. "Is that what he told you?"

Draco nodded. "I asked him last week why he was giving you so many detentions."

Hermione sighed and rubbed her temples. This whole situation was starting to give her an immense headache. "To be perfectly honest, most days I think it's all just some elaborate scheme to drive me crazy. A vindictive revenge ploy to pay me back for annoying him in class for the past seven years."

The Head Boy laughed. "While that's entirely possible, you _have_ given him so much motive, I don't think that that's what he's up to. If that was it, he would've let me in on the joke a long time ago."

She scowled but was silently quite relieved to hear the boy's opinion. Together with the professor's behavior that morning and Remus' earlier suspicions, it was really starting to seem like her feelings for the snarky man hadn't been so misplaced after all.

Still, there was a thick cloud of doubt that dampened the excitement she should've been feeling. "And what if you're wrong? This isn't like passing a note to some boy I think is cute. This is a professor we're talking about. If you're wrong... I'd have to drop out of school."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Calm down, Granger. You're showing your Gryffindor colors again." Earning the desired effect, an abrupt end to her timid schoolgirl act and an indignant scowl, he continued. "I'm not suggesting that you run down there and just start snogging him senseless. I presume that you have a bit more tact than that."

"Then what _are_ you suggesting?" she asked irritably, suddenly regretting her decision not to hex the boy when she had had the chance.

"I propose that we employ a little cunning. Let's go back downstairs and pretend as if we never had this discussion and just see what happens for the rest of the afternoon. We need to gather a bit more data," he replied. "Plus, I've got a spy on my side who had a similar truth-seeking mission while we were away on our little tour."

"Your father?" she groaned. "He knows about this too?"

"I told you that Severus' behavior was out of the ordinary. Who better to question it than someone that has known him since he was a first-year?"

With a resigned sigh, Hermione stood up. It was shaping up to be a nice little completely mortifying weekend. "Well, let's go see if he did as spectacularly as you did, then."

Draco chuckled smugly as he followed the witch out of his bedroom. "That's virtually impossible."

* * *

Meanwhile, once the older men were ensconced in the armchairs near the library's fireplace, Severus extracted a quill and journal from some unseen pocket of his robes. He opened the journal to a blank page near the back, laid it on the coffee table between them, and with a flick of his wand, enchanted the quill to poise itself over the paper in preparation of transcribing their conversation.

Settling back against the leather of the chair, he steepled his fingers in front of him and looked over at his friend, who was studying his cuticles with a rather bored expression. After a moment, Lucius glanced up to see the wizard watching him expectantly.

"Am I to go first, then?" the blond drawled lazily.

Snape nodded. "Why don't we start with a detailed chronology of all the ailments you've encountered over the past year and a half?"

Lucius made a face. "Not really a feel-good article you're writing then, is it?"

The professor gave him a look that was usually reserved for witless first-years. "It's not intended for _Witch Weekly_ , no."

"Now that would be fun. I could give ole Lockhart a run for his money, couldn't I?" the socialite asked, flashing his most brilliant and presumably award-winning smile.

Severus snorted in disgust at the idea. "This is for a scientific article, Lucius, geared towards the most intelligent Potions Masters in Britain, not lonely housewives and teenage girls."

Lucius smirked. "Speaking of teenage girls..."

"I'd rather not," Snape replied dryly. "Let's just get on with it, shall we?"

After a bit more procrastination on the older Slytherin's part, Malfoy finally acquiesced and began to describe every affliction that he had endured since being tortured, the charmed quill scribbling furiously the whole time. It was a very long, depressing list, and he paused halfway through to retrieve them both a glass of cognac to make the wretched task a bit easier.

Once Severus was satisfied with the account, he had his friend repeat what he had told the curly-haired witch in the gardens about the actual sensations of the metamorphosis. Here, Lucius became a bit more effervescent in his story telling and increasingly so when the professor asked him to describe how he was feeling presently. That list was fantastically more upbeat than the first.

"So, will that satisfy your oh-so-brilliant colleagues?" Lucius asked, having reached the end of his testimonial.

"Mmm, and perhaps even a few housewives."

"Ah, but no teenage girls? Mores the pity."

Severus smirked and finished off his cognac. "I know at least one teenage girl that will approve."

Lucius tipped his glass in a silent toast and swallowed the last sip of amber liquid it contained. "And just the girl I'd like to discuss." He leaned down and placed his empty tumbler on the table before resting his elbows on his knees and looking up at his old house mate. "What precisely is going on between you and the illustrious Miss Granger?"

The Potions Master suddenly wished there was more alcohol in his glass. Twirling the crystal ever so slowly in his fingertips, he replied, "I don't have any idea what you're referring to."

The former Death Eater chuckled derisively and sat back in his chair. "No?"

Snape shook his head. "She is my student. A very gifted student, yes, but nothing more."

"Hmm... Interesting. To hear Draco tell it, you two have become quite a bit more than merely teacher and pupil as of late."

The younger man swallowed reflexively but kept his face impassive. "Then your son is delusional. Perhaps I should have Poppy check him out once we get back to the castle."

Another sarcastic chuckle. "Maybe I should make an appointment with the dear lady myself as I've noticed a fair share of contradictions to your claims as well."

The glass swirled faster in Snape's long, slender fingers, the crystal blurring around the edges. "I've heard that moments of dementia are common in men of advanced age."

"Ah, insults." Lucius smirked. "Every good Slytherin's first line of defense."

Severus dark eyes glinted as they met the icy blue orbs of the pure-blood. "I learned from the best."

"That you did," Lucius replied, straightening his robes fussily. "We've been friends for quite a long time, haven't we, Severus?"

"Yes, we have. Nearly twenty-five years."

"And in all those years," the blond continued, "I've only known you to act this way _once_ before."

The former spy narrowed his eyes perceptively, sensing where this conversation was headed and not at all happy about it.

"And _that_ was over another Gryffindor witch, if memory serves."

"Watch your step, Lucius," Severus warned, the fireplace's embers suddenly failing to keep the chill out of the room.

The older wizard's brow rose in response to his friend's tone. "Threats, the second line," he replied as if reading from some invisible rule book before crossing his arms over his chest in an instinctual protective stance. "I'm simply pointing out that your behavior is remarkably similar."

The crystal tumbler began to spin at a dangerous pace, the only visible betrayal of the otherwise emotionless countenance of the raven-haired Slytherin.

"I forget," Lucius said quietly, consciously breaching the long-established boundaries between them. "Does Hermione resemble Lily Evans?"

Anger spiked in the dark wizard's fathomless eyes as he slammed the empty glass down on the table, displacing the scribbling quill, which fell to the floor. "I don't want to talk about her!" he spat.

The blond met his friend's fury with a calm, insistent voice. "Then tell me about Hermione."

Just then, the library doors opened and the witch in question strolled in unaccompanied. Severus eyes flashed again, this time in warning. "I don't want to discuss her either," he growled in a low voice before sitting back in his chair and watching the girl approach with a mask of cool indifference.

* * *

After traversing the richly carpeted hallway and descending the grand staircase, the Seeker led the way back to the library. When they had reached the double doors, he paused, as if having just remembered something important, and turned to his companion. "Go on ahead. I'm gonna go grab my chess set."

As he walked away without further explanation, Hermione called, "Chess? But I'm not any good at chess." The blond either didn't hear her or didn't care because he passed through to the adjoining room without looking back.

She frowned and turned back to the dark wood in front of her. She really didn't want to go in alone but was left, quite abruptly, with no other choice. Steeling her emotions, her frown melted into a contrived smile as she pushed open the door and strode with false confidence into the library.

Snape and Malfoy Senior were sitting in the armchairs closest to the fire, engaged in a quiet conversation that Hermione couldn't hear from where she stood. For a brief moment, she thought she saw anger flash through the professor's dark eyes as he muttered something to his friend, but a second later he was sitting back in his chair and studying her with his usual expressionless mask.

She got the distinct impression that she had just interrupted something serious between the two former Death Eaters but she couldn't very well turn around now and leave. With mental sigh, she made her way over to them, feeling the Potions Master's eyes trained on her every move but not daring to meet them.

After what felt like an eternity, she reached the sitting area and took a seat on the sofa between the two wizards' armchairs. Figuring that her host was the safest option, Hermione flashed the blond an inquisitive smile. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

Lucius glanced quickly at Snape then back to the witch. "No, my dear, not at all. Just two old friends catching up," he replied with a tiny wink. "So, did you hex my son and leave him somewhere to suffer?"

She chuckled and relaxed. "As tempting as it was, I managed to resist that particular urge. He's looking for a chess set, I believe."

"And did he give you the complete tour?"

"For the most part. We got a little side-tracked near the end," she replied, all false innocence. "My favorite part, by far, was the ballroom."

"Ah, yes, women always love the ballroom," Lucius said, reiterating his son's earlier comment. "Not that I can take any credit for it, of course. That was all Narcissa's doing."

At this, Hermione had to wonder if the patriarch of the family had had a hand in anything to do with the manor, outside of its name. Even that, she knew, was his ancestors' doing and not his own. Still, she smiled and politely replied, "Well, it's simply beautiful."

"Yes, I'm rather partial to it myself. It's unfortunately been out of use for the last few years but I hope to be able to rectify that soon."

Before the Muggle-born made a fool of herself by asking if she could expect an invitation, Draco entered the library with an arrogant smirk playing across his lips and sauntered towards the group sitting near the fire. When he reached them, he sat the chess set down onto the coffee table and glanced at his classmate. "Shove over, Granger," he ordered, forcing her to scoot from the middle of the sofa to the end closest to Snape before sitting down beside her.

As Lucius engaged his son in a cryptic conversation that Hermione was afraid to decipher, she turned towards the other wizard in the room for the first time since she had entered the library. She found his penetrating eyes already on her, which caused just the slightest bit of color to pepper her cheeks.

"Did you get all of your notes, sir?" she asked, glancing towards the open journal on the table. She didn't have to see the cover to know that it was the same book she had used in his laboratory.

"Yes, we should have more than enough information for a feature article," he replied, gathering up the journal and a quill that had fallen on the floor in the earlier disturbance.

She raised an eyebrow as he hastily tucked the items into his robes. " _We_?"

Severus shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He hadn't meant to let that slip, not yet at least. Damn Lucius and his gods forsaken nosiness! The blond's infernal meddling had unnerved him and now he was spouting off like a bloody Gryffindor.

Still, he hadn't been a spy for nothing, and as another mask slid into place, he covered his indiscretion with the mixture of sarcasm and mockery he was famous for. "I simply assumed that you'd be interested in the manuscript's preparation, Miss Granger. After all, you've painfully demonstrated to me your propensity for regurgitating your knowledge onto parchment for years now, not to mention your recently-discovered fondness for scholarly journals."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply but closed it again, not knowing whether she should be annoyed by his remarks or flattered by his desire for her to be included in the article, which was at the heart of his acerbic diatribe. Here was yet another shining example of the Potions Master's infuriating duplicity.

As a wordless challenge glinted in his ebony eyes, she opened her mouth for a second time, leaning more towards annoyance, but was mercifully interrupted by the blond beside her.

"Alright, Granger. Chess."

The Head Girl flashed the raven-haired spy an insolent little grin before turning towards the younger Slytherin. "Okay, but I have to warn you, I'm not very good."

Draco, who had practically been raised with a knight in his hand, grinned maliciously at her. "Then it'll be a very short game."

And thus, the match began. Surprisingly, Hermione did fairly well. She figured that watching Harry and Ron all these years must have rubbed off because after nearly a half hour of play, she had her fellow classmate all but pinned in and was quite sure that victory was imminent.

As Draco deliberated, the elder Malfoy moved his chair closer to his son and leaned in to whisper in his ear. The younger wizard grinned darkly and then made his move, overtaking one of her unsuspecting pieces, which was immediately beheaded. She watched her little soldier crumple into a heap of quartz and pewter before looking up at the cheating pair indignantly.

"Come now, Lucius," Snape scolded from across the table, beating her to the punch. "It's not fair to gang up on the girl."

Lucius glanced up at his old friend with a cool smirk. "Can't let the Malfoy name be sullied, Severus."

In response, the professor pulled his chair closer to the sofa and looked at his female student pointedly. "If they intend to cheat, then so shall we."

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes. "I'm definitely in the company of Slytherins."

The corners of his mouth twitched in amusement before he leaned forward to study the board. Had she known that her newly self-appointed teammate was a chess master, Hermione might have been relieved for the assistance, but as it was, she could only feel disconcerted by his proximity. Why, in the name of all that was sacred, did the man have to smell so good?

After a few moments of analysis, Snape reached over to whisper his proposed strategy into the witch's ear. She unconsciously stopped breathing as his warm breath caressed her cheek. Immense concentration was required just for her to move the correct piece and not snog the bastard senseless against Draco's earlier advice.

The Slytherin Head Boy, on the other hand, was watching the scene unfold with a devilish smirk on his face. He immediately recognized the complexity of the situation and found it incredibly amusing. To say that he had planned this outcome would be an overstatement but he had fetched the chessboard with the hopes of getting the two notoriously competitive wizards involved. They were both more fun when they were quarreling over strategies and the legalities of suspicious moves. This unforeseen twist was simply an added bonus, especially since Draco knew that he stood a considerably better chance of winning with his godfather helping than without. Even though Severus was the most skillful player the boy had ever known, his teammate had been reduced to a completely distracted wreck after mere moments.

As the game progressed, each team meeting the other play for play and Lucius and Severus swapping snide insults across the coffee table, Hermione was slowly able to relax and once again began to enjoy the game despite the incredibly awkward situation she was in. Even though her heart still raced every time the professor leaned in close, her hands had thankfully stopped trembling and she had even managed to appear unaffected when he inadvertently grabbed her knee while they were discussing a particularly ingenious and risky move. This action was apparently unconscious on his part because his hand remained there for several moments before he realized the error and jerked away like he had been stung. She pretended not to notice and was, all in all, rather proud of the aloof facade she had erected. Draco, who was starting to worry that the Malfoy name would be disgraced after all, had to agree.

After much criticism from Lucius as to the length of time it was taking them to make a move, Snape muttered one last play against the sensitive skin of his teammate's ear and then together he and Hermione triumphantly exclaimed, "Checkmate!"

Twin heads of silvery-blond hung in defeat as the prevailing king did a victory dance across the board, kicking the scattered remains of his enemies as he went.

Severus smirked smugly as he watched the celebrating chess piece before turning to the curly-haired witch with something that looked very close to a smile. "Well played," he commented without the slightest hint of mockery in his tone, "even for a Gryffindor."

Feeling her pulse quicken again, Hermione smiled brightly at him, her eyes lingering momentarily on the pleasant turn of his thin lips. "I would've been sunk without your help. I didn't know that you played, let alone so well."

He sat back in his armchair and studied her, the upturned corners of his mouth belying his otherwise inscrutable expression. "I possess a great many talents that I don't normally put on display for my students, Miss Granger."

So much for her act of indifference. The crimson blush that lit up her cheeks burnt that idea all to hell. There was no mistaking the flirtatious inflection is his comment this time, not even for a girl so unaccustomed to such things. She quickly looked down at the game board, her tongue tied to the point that she wouldn't have been able to respond even if she had had the words.

The master spy didn't miss her reaction, of course, and though he hadn't meant his reply in the way she had obviously taken it, the fact that she didn't appear totally repulsed gave him the tiniest glimmer of satisfaction.

The father and son team, on the other hand, shared a knowing smirk. They were both still mystified by the seemingly mutual attraction that had sprung up between two such contrary parties, but it was rather entertaining to watch all the same, especially given Snape's fastidious temperament.

Getting on with the business at hand, namely reclaiming his dignity, Draco quickly repaired the demolished chess pieces with a flick of his wand and set them back up again, while Lucius summoned Popkins to request a pot of herbal tea. He also informed the house-elf that their guests would be staying for dinner. This announcement was made without even bothering to consult said guests and Hermione, who had already been away from school longer than she had expected, risked a curious glance at her escort. She had to hide her grin behind her hand when she saw Snape scowl at his presumptuous friend but remain quiet. It appeared that they'd be staying in the snake's lair for a few more hours and oddly enough, she didn't mind.

That morning Hermione had been filled with anxiety at the mere thought of spending time with three Slytherin men who had done nothing but loathe her for seven years. This afternoon, however, found her amongst a pair of arrogant pure-bloods that she was rapidly beginning to think of as friends and a reticent wizard that she was becoming more infatuated with by the minute. Yes, dinner at Malfoy Manor sounded just lovely.


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

Several hours after the Head Girl's first exhilarating chess victory, the novelty had worn off considerably and left a vicious grudge match in its wake. Had Hermione not been best friends with the Gryffindor Quidditch team captain, she would have been shocked by the level of competitiveness between Snape and Malfoy. Though it was still technically her and Draco's game, the older generation had long since taken over all strategy and responsibility and were merely allowing the two classmates to move the pieces at their command while insults flew fast and furious across the table. Amusingly enough, the blond pure-blood proved himself more than up to the task of countering the Potions Master's patented sarcasm and both wizards had caused the girl to giggle nearly to the point of tears more than once. In fact, that seemed to have become a competition too.

It was during the fifth straight game, as Hermione and Draco were in stitches after a particularly Snape-like critique of his friend's slow-witted defense strategy that the Malfoys' wrinkly house-elf popped into the library with a crack.

"Dinner is being ready, Master," the small creature squeaked after the laughter subsided.

Lucius turned to her with a smile. "Thank you, Popkins. We'll be right in."

Once the elf had disappeared, he looked back at the chess board and hummed. They were locked in a dead heat, each team having won the same amount of matches and the present game was still too new to predict a probable outcome. "It appears we'll have to settle for a draw, Severus."

"Yes, how _lucky_ for you," the dark-haired man replied snidely as he stood, smoothed the creases from his robes, and slid the armchair back into its original position.

Malfoy attempted to sneer but the expression was tinged with far too much amusement to be effective. "It's lucky for _you_ that I'm too much of a gentleman to put my full effort into beating a team headed by such a beautiful woman," he said, giving said woman an all-too-obvious wink.

With another giggle, Hermione's eyes darted back to the stock-still wizard beside her and she could've sworn she heard a low growl reverberating somewhere deep within his chest. He managed to perfect the sneer the pure-blood hadn't been able to pull off and, without a single word, turned to his female student and offered his hand. The Gryffindor glanced questioningly from his outstretched fingers up to his malicious expression but the strange urgency in his eyes prompted her to immediately accept the offer and allow him to pull her from the sofa.

Instead of releasing her hand once she was standing, Snape guided the witch's small fingers to rest on his forearm in a chivalrous manner before looking back at the older blond with a satisfied air. "Don't be absurd, Lucius," he replied as they started off towards the library exit. "Everyone here, with the possible exception of Miss Granger, knows that you'd sell your own mother for a chance to beat me."

The Malfoy men's rich laughter rang off the book-lined walls as the pair strode through the double doors and into the hall. Once his little retaliation display was over, Hermione was sure that Snape would shrug out of her grasp but he didn't even seem to notice that she was still lightly clutching the sleeve of his robes as he escorted her off towards the dining room. She peered up at him curiously.

His dark hair hid most of his face but she could clearly see the rather smug expression that was tugging at the corners of his thin mouth. She desperately wanted to say something to him, to ride the wave of intimate camaraderie that had been building all afternoon, but every comment that came to mind was quickly rejected as being too impertinent, too foolish, or too inappropriate. Letting out a tiny sigh, she looked away. What was one supposed to say to one's teacher under such extraordinary circumstances? Being unable to satisfactorily answer that, she remained quiet and tried her best not to admire the muscle tone hidden beneath the black fabric under her fingers.

As Severus escorted the little witch through the manor, he felt an unfamiliar desire to explain his actions to her but wasn't sure where to begin. Truthfully, it had been rash and entirely inappropriate but he hadn't been able to stop himself from both showing Lucius up and pulling the Head Girl away from the lecherous advances of his former schoolmate. The rational side of his brain knew that the older Slytherin had just been trying to get the better of him but a separate part of his mind, one that hadn't seen the light of day in quite some time, had reacted on instinct — a jealous, possessive instinct that was completely ridiculous and highly unnerving. This was his student, for Merlin's sake. A student that was very much not his property to treat in such a manner. Yes, she was his responsibility while away from the castle but the blond pure-blood had hardly posed a threat that would warrant his controlling behavior. He glanced down at the top of her curly head and grimaced. He really should apologize but all the words that came to mind were far too candid for him to feel comfortable expressing or, conversely, too vague to have any real meaning. Deciding that it was better not to say anything than say too much, Snape mirrored the girl's silence and attempted not to notice the hint of jasmine that seemed to cling to her hair.

Draco and Lucius finally caught up with the pair just as they reached the dining room entrance. Hermione felt the professor's arm twitch, as if he wanted to pull away, but she held tight as she glanced over her shoulder. "Took you two long enough. Did you get lost in your own house?"

Twin smirks told her more than she needed to know. They had obviously taken the opportunity alone to compare notes. But it was Snape that spoke first. "No doubt Lucius was trying to formulate a comeback to my earlier remark. It does take the mentally _infirm_ awhile to do such things."

With another of those unladylike snorts that the man had criticized only days before, she turned back towards the sound of the double doors opening and Lucius' conceited reply about his level of firmness was missed completely as the room before her was revealed.

The dining room at night was even prettier than she had imagined it would be at lunch. The trio of chandeliers were ablaze with candles, their soft flickering light reflecting off the dangling crystal and gleaming table. The open windows along the left wall that had filled the room with sunlight earlier in the day were now teeming with stars and a brilliant crescent moon.

"It's almost magical," Hermione whispered as the professor led her to her seat. Without a word, he pulled out her chair then circled the table to take his own seat. He proceeded to make a point of looking anywhere but at her.

Once the Malfoys were seated as well, the kitchen door reappeared and opened to admit two house-elves that were levitating several serving dishes above each of their heads. The witch recognized the first elf as the one that had thrown her and Draco out of the kitchen earlier but when she glanced at the second, it looked exactly the same — to the point that she really couldn't distinguish the two. She watched them curiously as they lowered the platters onto the table and disappeared back through the magical door only to re-emerge a second later with several more dishes. There were three such trips before the house-elves bowed to the room and entered the kitchen for the last time.

"Are they twins?" Hermione asked, pointing to the door that had once again masqueraded itself as a blank wall.

Lucius nodded. "Nimsy and Timsy. They're second generation Malfoy elves."

"That's rare, isn't it?" she asked, mimicking the men and beginning to fill her plate. "Twins, I mean."

"They are, in fact. Mainly because house-elves aren't normally capable of carrying two fetuses to full-term," the blond explained. "Regular pregnancies are quite taxing on the mother's magical energy and accordingly, twins are doubly so. If the mother elf isn't strong enough, all three of them die. Nimsy and Timsy only survived because they were born prematurely and even then one of them very nearly didn't make it. Popkins was beside herself with worry."

"Popkins is their mother?"

Lucius nodded again. "I had just finished school when they were born. Ugly little buggers." He wrinkled his nose before reaching for the wine bottle in the center of the table and pouring himself a glass.

Hermione chuckled and finished serving herself. There were so many delicious-looking dishes to choose from and everything smelled heavenly, reminding her how little she had eaten that day and how hungry she was now. Once she had a bit of everything on her plate, she took a tentative bite of the roasted vegetables and a little sigh of pleasure escaped her throat as the taste engulfed her. In rapture as she was, she missed the look exchanged between the two older Slytherins but when she glanced up, Snape was scowling at his plate like it had grievously offended him.

They ate in quiet enjoyment for several minutes before the girl spoke up again. "Well, the elves certainly are talented. This meal is wonderful. Even the feasts at Hogwarts aren't this good."

"Yes, they seemed to have gone all out, haven't they?" Lucius replied, cutting into his portion of roast lamb. "It's not often that they have more to feed than just me anymore and seeing how I haven't been able to tolerate much more than broth in so long, I suppose they got a bit carried away with the menu."

The Head Girl dabbed the corner of her mouth with the soft linen napkin beside her plate. "Professor Snape mentioned earlier that Popkins is magically bound to you but I've never heard of a house-elf doing that before. How did that happen?"

The blond smiled and took a sip of his wine. "You _are_ an inquisitive little thing, aren't you?"

"I tried to warn you, Lucius," Severus pointed out, speaking for the first time since they had entered the room. "At least she's restraining herself from jumping up and down in her seat and flailing her arms like her head is on fire."

Draco guffawed loudly at this and Hermione made a face at him before pinning the Potions Master in a rather icy glare. "I haven't raised my hand in your class for nearly two years, _Professor_."

He smirked at her tone, clearly enjoying his taunting. "A fact I'm both thankful for and astonished by on a daily basis."

Her eyes narrowed as the two Malfoy men chuckled but Lucius saved her from saying something that she'd wind up regretting later on. "There's nothing wrong with curiosity, Severus. And it is your job to pass on knowledge to your students, is it not?"

"Regrettably," Snape acknowledged. "However Miss Granger used up her allotment of questions _years_ ago."

Hermione huffed and viciously stabbed a carrot on her plate, imagining it to be some soft and tender patch of the snarky man's flesh. He had made an art out of infuriating her, knowing just what buttons to push and just how far until she was caught in the delicate and intoxicating balance between wanting to smother him with kisses to shut him up and just plain smothering him. Right now, she'd settle for option number two.

"Popkins willfully bound herself to me last year," Lucius explained after shooting his friend a reproachful look — really now, how was he expecting to woo the girl with that type of behavior? "After my wife's death, I was all alone in the house and there were times when the seizures got so bad that I was quite a danger to myself." He took another sip of wine to try and wash away the memories of being so weak and helpless. He smiled when he saw the witch lay her fork down and place her hands in her lap to give him her undivided attention. "One night I was making my way up the stairs when a seizure hit. I fell about three-fourths of the way down and landed head first on the marble floor in the entrance hall."

Hermione gasped. "Oh my gracious, you could've been killed!"

He nodded gravely. "I was knocked unconscious and laid there bleeding until Popkins came across me in the morning. I had one foot through the veil by that point but because house-elves don't have healing powers she had to summon Severus. Thankfully, his arsenal of potions proved vast enough to mend my injuries."

She glanced at the Potions Master, who met her gaze steadily, not betraying any emotion. "It's a good thing that you had both of them," she said, letting her eyes trail back to the blond.

"Quite," he replied with a smile. "After that night, Popkins took it upon herself to bind her magic with mine so that she'd be aware of my condition and location at any point in time. If I were to fall again, she'd know immediately and be able to respond. By accessing my magic, she's able to perform rudimentary healing spells and the type of assessment that you witnessed earlier, though only on me.

"You know, Severus, now that I think about it, it's a bit odd that she didn't sense the potion's effects this morning," Lucius continued thoughtfully, glancing at the brooding man beside him. "She said they felt the spike of magic but she didn't feel anything going on with me specifically."

Snape nodded as he finished chewing. "I thought about that this morning. More than likely it was due to the fact that you were physically unaware of what was happening to you." He shrugged slightly. "Chalk it up to one more thing that we don't know about the connection."

"Mmm," Lucius murmured in reply before returning his attention to Hermione. "Severus and I have done a fair amount of research on the subject but haven't been able to find much of use. There aren't many books written on Elfin Magic."

"From my experience the wizarding community would rather just pretend that house-elves don't exist," she acknowledged somewhat bitterly. "As long as their houses are clean and their meals are hot, they could care less about the creatures who toil in the shadows." She bit her lip and dropped her eyes back to her plate after that statement. The kindness she had received from the eldest Malfoy was already far more than she had ever hoped for and here she was spouting views that clashed spectacularly with pure-blood dogma.

"Better watch out, Lucius," Snape interjected, once again exercising his ability to be a complete arse. "Miss Granger will have your elves demanding wages and holidays before long if you're not careful."

Draco, who knew exactly what his godfather was referring to, nearly choked on his mashed potatoes trying to suppress his laughter with a full mouth. As Lucius patted his son on the back, Hermione shot the professor a withering look for not letting the subject drop. Discussing house-elves in general was obviously risky enough but this particular line of discourse would inevitably lead to uncomfortable destinations. Still, she couldn't help but correct him. "For your information, I gave up on S.P.E.W. years ago."

"Spew?" Lucius asked as if the word itself was distasteful to his palate. "What, pray tell, is that?"

"A rather poorly named bit of ignorance on her otherwise impeccable record," Severus replied, smirking at the incensed witch from across the table, amusement dancing in his eyes.

" _S.P.E.W._ stood for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare," Hermione explained to the pure-blood, purposely ignoring the other man's remark. "During my fourth year, I tried to convince the Hogwarts elves that they deserved to have rights just like any wizard."

The older man chuckled, intimately aware of the creatures' views on such a matter. "May I assume that that did not go over well?"

"No, apparently there aren't many of them interested in freedom. I finally had to concede defeat after..." She broke off sharply, swallowing the words she had very nearly let tumble out. A flush crept up her cheeks as she lowered her gaze to her plate.

"After what?" Draco asked. He remembered the witch's pet project well enough. It had been the punch line to many a joke in the Slytherin common room that year. But he didn't know why she had abandoned it. In fact that had always seemed out of character. Gryffindors were forever obsessed with saving somebody, regardless whether the recipient actually _wanted_ their help or not. Glancing at her, he wondered why the hell the witch was turning red all of a sudden.

Hermione sighed, annoyed with herself for being unable to filter her thoughts better. But she was in the thick of things now. Nothing to do but press forward. "Dobby nearly killed himself trying to clean all of Gryffindor tower alone in addition to his normal chores. The other house-elves refused to step foot in the common room because they thought I'd try to trick them into taking clothes."

Lucius suddenly understood the witch's reticence. His elf had been at the heart of the ordeal — the elf that he had treated so poorly and that had been freed by the Potter boy in a flash of merited revenge. The guilt over past deeds washed over his recently rejuvenated heart. He gave her a grim smile. "And how is Dobby these days?"

Hermione forcefully returned the smile, mentally reminding herself that her pleasant host was no longer the same evil wizard that had mistreated the friendly little elf so badly. So much had obviously changed. "He's doing quite well at Hogwarts. He enjoys his work and his freedom."

The house-elf's former master nodded and said, "That's good. I'm glad to know he's happy," before casting his eyes to his plate and drawing the conversation to an end.

Hermione glanced irritably at Snape, who was, once again, purposely not looking in her direction, before tucking back into her meal. As far as she was concerned, the uncomfortable tension that now hung over them was completely his fault and part of her wished that the table wasn't quite as wide so she could kick him in the shins for it.

Severus cleared his throat inconspicuously. He had not known that the former Malfoy elf had been the one behind the girl's ridiculous campaign. If he had, he obviously wouldn't have goaded her into the blasted discussion. There was a virtual minefield of incendiary topics to avoid between the Muggle-born witch and the older Slytherin. He thought he had been aware of them all but this one had slipped past him.

"How are you feeling, Lucius?" he inquired solicitously, endeavoring to repair the damage with a change of subject. "Your appetite seems to have returned. Not experiencing any stomach pains or headaches, are you?"

The blond swallowed his rather unseemly mouthful of pudding with obvious pleasure. "No, I feel wonderful. Never enjoyed a meal more thanks to your little elixir and the marvelous company, of course."

Snape shook his head. The man was nothing if not a gracious host and a hopeless flatterer even in the face of adversity. "Very good. It appears that everything is working well. I'd like to remain at the manor overnight, if that's acceptable, just on the off chance that there's any type of relapse. If we make it to the twenty-four hour mark without incident, then I believe we can truly consider the potion a success."

"Of course, of course. You know you're always welcome here," Lucius replied with a smile that clearly expressed how happy he was at the prospect of having overnight guests. He really had been alone for far too long. "Popkins will be delighted to make up a couple of the guest rooms. It's high time they were put to use again."

The professor shook his head and said, "Only one room will be needed," before picking up his glass and taking a long sip of water, unintentionally leaving his table-mates to draw their own conclusions as to what that meant.

Lucius eyes widened at his old friend, wondering if he was really proposing that he and his student would be sharing a bed. Hermione's heart rate increased dramatically, foolishly thinking the exact same thing. Draco was the only one who assumed that his godfather's omission meant something else entirely and he frowned. Surely he wouldn't be alluding to such an inappropriate arrangement here at the dinner table, even if he did hope for such an occurrence.

The Potions Master sat his glass back down on the table and looked around at the faces of his companions. Judging by their expressions, something wasn't right. What had he said? When the sinking realization dawned on him, he felt his ears redden, though they were thankfully hidden by his hair. How could they think such a thing? And why didn't any of them, most especially the girl across from him, seem appalled by their assumption?

He scowled. "I intend on returning Draco and Miss Granger to the castle directly after dinner."

The Head Boy's suspicion being thus confirmed, his frown deepened. "Oh, come on, Sev. I want to stay too. It'd be really nice to sleep in my own bed again."

Snape shook his head despite the younger Slytherin's beseeching gaze. "The Headmaster only excused your absence today because it's Sunday. He wouldn't appreciate me keeping you away from the school overnight. You both have classes tomorrow."

"Actually, Professor," Hermione chimed in, inordinately keen on the idea of spending the night at the manor, "the seventh-years have a free period first thing on Mondays, so we really wouldn't be missing anything if we were to wait until the morning to go back."

Severus scowled again but didn't meet the girl's eyes. In all honesty, he wasn't the least bit concerned about their classes — they could both take the N.E.W.T. examinations right now and undoubtedly pass with flying colors — or Albus' permission, which would be simple enough to secure. No, the former spy was far more discomforted by the notion of what it would mean to be responsible for a female student overnight, particularly this female student and in this house. Lucius could be trusted well enough — he wasn't normally interested in women that could put him in his place, both verbally and physically, so adequately — but Draco seemed to be becoming friendlier with the little witch by the minute and with his godson's history of seducing anything in a skirt, Merlin only knew what could happen.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried to stifle the oncoming headache that he felt building between his temples. He seriously doubted his abilities of breaking up an entanglement of that sort without catastrophic repercussions.

"Let them stay," Lucius proposed, oblivious to his friend's current state of mind. "There's more than enough room and I'm sure Dumbledore won't mind since they won't be missing any lessons. It'd be less work for you as well," he reasoned.

The other man snorted in disagreement. "Being saddled with the responsibility of two students overnight instead of returning them to the security of Hogwarts can hardly be considered _less_ work."

"Come now, Severus. This is Draco's home, after all, and I don't see how Hermione could be any trouble."

"Which just emphasizes how little you know about Miss Granger, Lucius." The professor's eyes flashed at his student. "I assure you that I've never met someone with such a penchant for finding trouble."

Hermione opened her mouth to argue but closed it again, settling for a tight-lipped glower instead. She knew that if she tried to defend herself he'd only come up with a dozen or so embarrassing examples of that fact and she really didn't fancy hearing a list of her childhood transgressions spewed with the disdain he'd undoubtedly convey. Yes, she had caused more than her fair share of trouble over the years — with the help of Harry and Ron, of course — and unfortunately, more times than not, Snape had been inadvertently involved.

The man in question smirked when he saw the girl back down, but once again, the blond aristocrat came to her rescue. "You brought her here because of her contribution to the potion. Surely she deserves to stay until its official success." He gave Hermione a pointed look. "And I'm sure she promises to be on her _best_ behavior."

She nodded before flashing Snape her most nauseatingly sweet smile and after a gentle nudge under the table, Draco mirrored her expression better than she would've thought possible.

The Potions Master's thin lips compressed into an even tighter line but he eventually relented, which he told himself had nothing to do with the way the curly-haired witch's eyes twinkled at him in the candlelight. "Fine. You can stay. But if either of you do anything to make me regret the decision, you'll both be scrubbing cauldrons for the rest of the year," he said.

The two classmates had the decency to at least appear abashed by this warning, delivered in the same tone that usually caused first-years to cower in fear. Lucius, on the other hand, chuckled heartily. "Way to instill fear, Severus. Threatening them with _dishes_. Did you learn that tactic from the Dark Lord?"

Hermione giggled at the look exchanged between the wizards before tucking back into her dinner, which was still miraculously hot. Her excitement over spending the night amongst these men completely over-clouded the fact that her friends back at the castle would probably be worried sick about her. And yes, her bow-legged cat, having been left alone all day, had probably shredded her duvet into ribbons by now, but she couldn't convince herself to be bothered by that either. Tonight she'd enjoy herself — there'd be plenty of time to deal with the aftermath later.

* * *

The rest of dinner proceeded without incident and after a dessert of treacle tart, which happened to be Draco's favorite as well as Harry's, Lucius led his young charges to a cozy sitting room off of the foyer while Snape excused himself to Floo the Headmaster with their change in plans.

For his part, Severus made his way back to the library alone, all the while trying to figure out exactly how he had gotten himself into this predicament. One minute he was dishing out his normal derogatory commentary and the next he was being talked into letting his students stay at Malfoy Manor overnight, like he needed more on his plate. There was something about that blasted girl's smile that he couldn't say no to. Gods help him if she ever figured out that weakness and exploited it. His bastard persona would be thoroughly shot to hell.

Massaging the bridge of nose between his thumb and forefinger again, he stalked over to the fireplace, took a pinch of powder from an antique silver box on the mantle and tossed it into the hearth. As the orange flames changed color, he lowered himself onto his knees and stuck his face into the fire.

Within seconds, the Potions Master's head appeared within the Headmaster's Floo, casting an ominous green glow over the cluttered office. Dumbledore, who had been sitting at his desk, shuffling through an immense stack of parchment, looked over and smiled serenely, as if he had been expecting this call all evening. "Severus, my boy! How did your experiment go?"

"Very well," the younger wizard replied. "Lucius appears to be completely cured."

"That's marvelous news!" the Headmaster exclaimed as he pushed himself away from the desk and walked over to the hearth. "I knew you could do it. Well done, indeed!" He sat down in one of the chintzy armchairs by the fire and smiled broadly at his former spy from behind his long beard.

Snape, who had never been entirely comfortable with straightforward praise, frowned. "I cannot count it as a complete success unless he makes it through the night without any sort of relapse."

Albus chuckled lightly and shook his head. "Always the pessimist. You should be proud of yourself. You've done a remarkable thing."

"Pride can wait," he replied dismissively. "Right now I just want to be sure that there aren't any complications. I intend on spending the night here to keep an eye on things."

"Quite understandable." The silver-haired wizard sat back into the cushions and wandlessly summoned a cup of tea. "Am I to assume that Miss Granger and the young Mr. Malfoy will be spending the night away as well?"

Severus nodded his head, causing the magical flames to lick at his ears. "They both have requested to do so and Lucius practically insisted."

Another mirthful chuckle. "Then I take it that things have been resolved between our Head Girl and the Malfoy family?"

The Slytherin suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Bloody Lucius had taken to the girl he had once deemed filth like a Bowtruckle to woodlice and she had been nearly as eager. "Yes, she seems to be fitting in just fine." He readjusted his position on the hearth rug, his knees protesting at the prolonged contact with the hard ground. He had spent too much of his life in this subservient position for it to be the least bit comfortable.

"Regardless," he continued, having found the easiest position in which to ignore the pain, "I should have them back tomorrow before their first lesson. I will, however, need you to handle my first-years in the morning. It's Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff so if you just assign some reading they should be fine."

Albus nodded as he sipped his tea but when he looked up from the china cup it was apparent that the commander-in-chief of the Order had other ideas. Severus had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from sighing out loud. That look was rarely a good sign, at least in his experience.

"Why don't you take the entire day off and go register the potion instead?" the Headmaster suggested in a deceptively amicable tone.

Snape frowned again, the fire crackling through his dark hair like some electrical experiment gone terribly wrong. "What about my classes?"

"I'm sure I'm capable of covering your classes for the day, my boy. This potion is extremely important and needs to be registered as soon as possible so that it can be put into use immediately. I don't believe waiting even one more day would be wise."

"I agree," the younger man conceded, trying to suppress his apprehension of the Headmaster taking over his classes for the day. The last time he was forced into missing work, thanks to an unusually lengthy and grueling revel of the Dark Lord's, the old man had the brilliant idea of having all the students concoct some sort of gooey confection instead of their assigned potions. It had taken the Potion's Master hours to scrub the sticky, sweet mess out of the cauldrons, even with magic.

"And my tagalongs?" he asked, already suspecting the answer.

Dumbledore simply gave him that infernal smile of his. "Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger are the brightest students in their year. I highly doubt that missing one day of lessons will make much of a difference."

Severus sighed in resignation as the older wizard extracted a lemon drop from his pocket, blew off a speck of lint from the candy, and plunked it into his tea. This venture was turning into a bloody fieldtrip.

"Besides, you're planning on giving the girl partial credit, are you not?" Albus asked, absently swirling the cup in his aged hands.

The Potions Master nodded, not at all surprised that the omniscient wizard already knew this even though he had only made the decision the day before. "She deserves to have her name on it, though I haven't informed her of that yet."

"Well, then you'll obviously need to take her with you to the Ministry and I see no better time than the present. I'll excuse her and Mr. Malfoy from classes for the day. I don't believe that anyone will have a problem with it, with the exception of Messrs. Potter and Weasley, of course."

"Of course," Snape drawled, not resisting a disdainful roll of his eyes at the mention of the two banes of his existence.

Albus peered down his crooked nose at the Slytherin, an all-too-familiar twinkle present behind his half-moon spectacles. "Perhaps it's time that you let Miss Granger in on your other secret as well, Severus."

The younger wizard shifted positions again, though this time it wasn't due to any _physical_ discomfort. "You make it sound so clandestine. I've simply delayed in telling the girl."

The Headmaster chuckled again. "Whatever you say. I told you that that decision belongs to you and I'll stand by whatever you feel is best. I do, however, think you've tortured the poor witch long enough."

A muscle twitched in the professor's cheek. "She doesn't know the meaning of torture yet."

Before Dumbledore could reply to that, Fawkes issued a low melodious cry from his perch across the room. Albus set his teacup down on the spindly-legged table next to his chair. "It appears that I have imminent visitors," he explained to the bobbing head in his fire.

Another green-tinged smirk crossed Snape's face. "Potter and Weasley, no doubt. Coming to accuse me of kidnapping the brains of their little trio."

The Headmaster gave him a look, the same look the dark wizard received whenever he disparaged the wizened Gryffindor's favorite students. "I'll expect the three of you back by dinner time tomorrow."

Severus nodded just before a loud series of thuds, suspiciously similar to the sound of adolescent males trying to beat down a wooden door, echoed through the room. Apparently, the Potter brat had been given the gargoyle's latest password if he had made it that far, a decision that Dumbledore was surely regretting right about now.

Albus stood from his chair and looked back to the Floo one last time, smiling warmly at his protégé. "Congratulations again, my boy. I'm quite proud of what you've accomplished."

"Thank you, Albus," the raven-haired wizard replied, feeling a warmth creep up his neck that was totally unrelated to the magical flames he was submersed in.

Without further ado, the older man strode towards the source of the growing commotion and Severus withdrew his head from the fire just as the door burst open and two boisterous Gryffindors trampled into the Headmaster's office.

Smirking, he stood up and shook the residual ash from his hair. Dumbledore was undoubtedly going to get an earful from his golden boy. The former spy was half tempted to stick his head back in the Floo just to catch the dunderheads' expressions when they found out where their friend would be sleeping that night, as they were sure to be entertaining. Stifling that particular impulse, he straightened his robes and set off in search of the others.

Upon re-entering the foyer, Severus could hear raucous laughter coming from across the entry hall. He scowled and followed the sound to a small sitting room where he was met by the Muggle-born witch and the two pure-blood Slytherins, all giggling hysterically. When they saw him enter the room, their laughter only escalated.

The stoic professor crossed his arms over his chest and eyed the group suspiciously. "What, in the name of Salazar, are the three of you up to?"

This, of course, elicited further peals of laughter, but after a well-aimed sneer, Lucius was able to successfully compose himself enough to speak. "I was just regaling them with some stories from our years at Hogwarts."

Severus' sneer deepened. "I'd appreciate it if you refrained from corrupting my students, Lucius. I have quite enough problems to deal with without you giving them any additional ideas for mayhem or fuel for ridicule."

Draco and Hermione managed to contain their amusement to mere snickers in face of the Potions Master's ire but the Head Girl didn't think she'd ever be able to properly fear his point-deducting wrath again after hearing of his rule-breaking misadventures. To think, the same man that belittled Neville mercilessly for melting a few cauldrons actually blew up an entire classroom with an experiment gone awry in his second year.

Lucius smirked at his friend's comment, a mischievous glint hiding in the icy depths of his pale eyes. "Yes, your job must be so taxing, Severus. Hermione told me about the superfluous amount of detentions she's had this year." His smirk bloomed into an all-out malignant grin. "You were right. She must be quite the _handful_."

Hermione's cheeks reddened and she smacked her classmate on the shoulder when he started to snicker again. Snape's dark eyes darted to the blushing witch then narrowed back on his grinning friend. "I hold a position of authority, Lucius. It's my job to reprimand insolence and disobedience, two qualities Miss Granger happens to possess in abundance." He glanced back at the girl, presenting a cool mask of indifference to her obviously building indignation. "I can hardly be blamed for her increased presence in the dungeons as of late."

Bloody freaking bastard! So he was going to straight out lie, was he? Hermione was on the verge of calling him on it — on everything — prepared to argue to the death if necessary but just as she opened her mouth to refute his preposterous claims of innocence, something in his ebony eyes shifted. Instead of apathy and disdain, there was a new combination — amusement tinged with something unidentifiable and quite out of place in those fathomless orbs. Whatever this mixture of emotion was, it killed the vindictive retort in her throat quicker than any Silencing Charm could have done.

She held his gaze, refusing to shy away from the strange intensity, until the eldest Malfoy intervened by clearing his throat pointedly. Her blush deepened and she quickly diverted her eyes to her hands resting in her lap as if they had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the room.

Severus squared his shoulders perceptively and returned his formidable focus to the blond wizard, who was now grinning almost wickedly from his perch upon the armchair. With a scowl, the professor tried to regain his control over the situation. "You'll all be glad to know that the Headmaster agreed to your ridiculous slumber party farce. Furthermore, he's excused the three of us from classes tomorrow. We'll be going to the Ministry, instead."

At this, the witch looked up, curiosity apparently overriding her embarrassment. Severus attempted not to notice her interest, though her unspoken questions practically assaulted him from across the room, and resolutely kept his gaze from falling back upon her curly-haired head as he continued. "The potion needs to be registered immediately so that it can be distributed to the various hospitals. It shouldn't take more than a few hours to retrieve the official paperwork though Dumbledore isn't expecting us back at the castle until tomorrow evening." Without further explanation, he sat down next to his godson on the sofa.

Lucius reached over and poured his friend a cup of tea from the pot he had ordered during the younger man's absence and passed it to him. "So, the Ministry? That should be an interesting trip. I haven't been back there since..." He seemed to swallow the rest of that sentence and with a small grimace and changed course mid-stride. "What's the procedure for registering such a thing, anyhow?"

The Potions Master sipped his tea and used the delicate china as a veil from which to study his female student. She appeared genuinely interested as to how he would answer, but then again, when wasn't she curious about something she didn't know? As he swallowed the warm herbal brew, he idly wondered how she was going to react to his forthcoming revelation. It was always amusing to throw a Gryffindor off course and he had a particular knack for it, especially with this witch. Taunting her was entirely too entertaining to be strictly appropriate.

Focusing his energy away from that line of thought, Severus set his cup down on the coffee table and sat back, stretching his long legs out and crossing them at the ankle, portraying an image of complete relaxation before responding. "Miss Granger and I will need to fill out the official paperwork and secure a meeting with the patent committee. With a potion of this magnitude, I'm sure the entire board will convene for a proper presentation, in which case I'll be asked to give a synopsis of the research and brewing procedures and the three of you will likely be asked to give testimony as to your involvement. It's also possible that a test subject will be brought in to allow the committee to see the potion's effects firsthand."

"You mean you'll be healing someone else?" Lucius asked in surprise.

Snape nodded. "More than likely. They'll probably acquire one of the patients from St. Mungo's. There are more than enough there that would be willing to submit to anything that promised relief, founded or not."

"Then this _will_ be an interesting visit," the blond replied. Even though he had never so much as stepped foot inside the long-term care ward that had been set up for Cruciatus victims, he was quite aware that there were others, some of them former comrades, who were suffering as much, if not more, than he had been.

"What type of testimony will I have to give?" Draco asked curiously, when he saw his father drift into silent contemplation. He was quite excited about the prospect of being part of an actual Potions presentation but would rather be prepared for what would be expected of him than caught off guard. It wouldn't do for the heir of the Malfoy legacy to embarrass himself like a stuttering Hufflepuff.

The older man leaned forward and collected his teacup again. " _If_ they ask you to speak, it wouldn't be anything in-depth, I'm sure. They'll probably just ask you to describe Lucius' condition before and after the potion and what the transformation itself looked like. You only need to be truthful." He gave his godson an amused look. "I promise you won't be graded on it."

Both Malfoys chuckled but still the Head Girl remained uncharacteristically quiet. Braving the possible tidal wave, Severus leveled his gaze upon her. Her eyes were focused on the murky liquid in her cup but she was obviously deep in thought.

"No questions, Miss Granger? How very unlike you," he remarked dryly. "I must be losing my edge."

When she failed to respond to the wizard's goading, Draco kicked her lightly in the shin. Startled, Hermione's eyes darted up to find all three men staring at her intently. Despite her wishes, her cheeks flushed again at the attention.

"I'm sorry," she nearly squeaked. "Were you talking to me?" Her wondering eyes met those of the Potions Master, who looked irritated and obviously had something to say about it. "Professor?" she asked, fidgeting slightly with the china in her hands.

"I apologize if we're boring you, Miss Granger," he snapped, feeling somewhat affronted by her inattention.

Her eyes widened at the coldness in his voice. "No, sir, that's not it. I just got distracted and missed the last thing you said."

"Obviously," he replied in a curt tone, resisting the desire to roll his eyes like a sulky teenager.

When he showed no intentions of repeating himself, she sighed audibly and sat her now cold tea down. Was she always going to be caught in this repetitive game with him? Gaining two steps forward only to be inevitably knocked three steps back?

"You mentioned that you and I would need to both be present to fill out the official paperwork?" she asked, trying to proceed with the conversation as if nothing had happened.

"Yes," Severus replied, relaxing ever so slightly. It had been foolish of him to think that the girl's unnerving ability to pick up on every annotation he had ever made had suddenly failed her and even more foolish to treat her like an errant first-year that had been caught daydreaming in his class. Sometimes thinking of her as anything but a student was difficult. At other times, though, it had become frighteningly easy.

"Not that I'm uninterested in learning about the registration procedures firsthand, but why would I be involved?" she asked, cutting to the root of her confusion. She had been trying to riddle that question out for herself when she had lost the thread of conversation.

"I would think that that would be rather obvious."

Irritated by his coyness, she huffed. "Well, it's not." Realizing how rude that had sounded, she forced a polite, "sir," at the end though it was a few seconds too late to be believable. A muscle in his jaw twitched as the professor suppressed what could have been a smile on anyone else.

"Seeing how the potion will be in both our names, we'll both need to be present to sign the patent petition," he replied with all the enthusiasm of explaining how to de-slime a Flobberworm. "I was going to have you sign the form at school but this eliminates that necessity."

Lucius, who already knew about this decision, smiled at the surprised expressions on the two younger faces in the room. Draco's pale eyes were wide as he stared at his godfather but he at least had sense enough not to outright gawk at the raven-haired wizard like the Muggle-born witch was doing.

A shark-like grin spread across the Potions Master's pallid face. "Had I known that that was all it took to silence your endless chatter, I would've done it years ago."

His sarcastic tone brought Hermione back, at least partially, to her senses and she closed her mouth with an audible pop. "I had no idea that you were considering giving me credit, sir. I hardly think it's necessary."

"Nonsense," he replied, drawing his knees up and crossing his arms over his chest. "You provided a critical element to the potion's creation. Without your suggestion, the other ingredients wouldn't have stabilized. Therefore, it's only appropriate that it be registered in your name as well."

Hermione glanced at Draco, who only shrugged, still surprised by the uncharacteristic generosity of his godfather, and then at Lucius, who smiled warmly at her. Her brow creased as she tried to come to grips with what he was proposing. "Surely you would've found the solution without my help."

"Eventually, yes, but you saved me the trouble."

"So how does that warrant giving me credit for _your_ hard work?" she asked, her words becoming a little more spirited. "I can't even fathom the effort that went into creating the potion from start to finish, from the research and planning to the actual brewing. I only witnessed the very end of that process and just happened to be able to offer a small suggestion that ultimately proved successful. It was little more than a lucky guess."

"As I already said, it was that _lucky guess_ that made all of my effort fruitful. Without the Monkshood oil, the potion would be worthless. And yes, I would've come upon the solution eventually but there's no telling how long that would've taken. I've been researching this project for close to two years now and had never even considered using Monkshood until you mentioned that article."

"You see!" Hermione exclaimed. "That's my point. You've been working on it for all that time and now, just because you're feeling—" She had been on the verge of saying _attracted to me_ but caught herself in the nick of time. Her mouth closed into an aggrieved frown. Now was not the time or place for such a confrontation.

His eyebrow arched exquisitely. "Because I'm feeling _what_ , exactly, Miss Granger?"

She swallowed thickly and thought up a quick lie. "Oddly charitable?"

Lucius chuckled. "I believe that's the first time I've ever heard you referred to as such, Severus."

The professor smirked. "Yes, me too." He looked back at the little witch, who was blushing yet again. "You've been my pupil for seven years now. In that time, have you ever known me to give credit where it wasn't absolutely deserved?"

She shook her head. "No." Despite the fact that she could out-brew everyone in her class and had turned in hundreds of letter-perfect essays, she could only claim a single _Outstanding_ and was positive he had never verbally complimented her work.

Another sardonic grin. "So what makes you think that I've suddenly decided to break that streak?"

"I don't know," Hermione conceded, unsure of how to explain that she didn't want her name on the potion if it was only an attempt to get into her knickers — gods knew there were far easier means of achieving that.

"Right, then. That's settled," he announced. "Unless, of course, you want to continue denying the importance of your involvement. I'm not going to force you into taking ownership."

There it was. The decision was hers. She could decline on the presumption that it wasn't wholly deserved or she could swallow her apprehension and accept graciously. A registered potion of this scale on her record would guarantee her admittance to any university or an apprenticeship under her choice of masters. That prospect was something that she couldn't pass up lightly, no matter how suspicious she was of the wizard's motives.

Deciding to play the devil's advocate, Hermione pushed her worries to the back of her mind and gave the dark-haired man a congenial smile. "No, sir. I'm flattered that you want to give me partial credit. Thank you." He nodded stoically and turned his gaze away from her.

With the next day's business seemingly arranged, talk eventually turned back to more frivolous matters. They ended up discussing Slytherin's chances of winning the upcoming Quidditch match against Ravenclaw and ultimately taking the Quidditch Cup. Though the only in-house Gryffindor's opinion was obviously outnumbered, the conversation did provide an opportunity to learn more about the men in her company.

Draco was as obsessed with winning as Harry and had been training his team just as tirelessly, a fact that she was encouraged to inform her best friend of immediately, though she doubted it would produce the reaction the blond was hoping for. Lucius had been a Seeker in his day too, as well as team captain. And even Snape had played for Slytherin House as a Chaser during his last two years at school, mainly due to the fact that Lucius had bought him his first racing broom and insisted that he use it to defend their House honor.

Somehow Hermione had a hard time picturing the austere professor as a sports-crazy teenager, which she told him quite unapologetically when he asked why she was giggling. She, of course, received a rather tart reply for her efforts. Settling back in her chair with a fresh cup of tea, she consoled herself with thoughts of the snarky git in form-fitting Quidditch robes and had to hide her resulting grin behind the flowery china.

As the evening wore on and the teapot ran dry, the monumental events of the day began to take their toll on everyone. After Lucius yawned for the fifth time during their conversation, Severus proposed that they call it a night, seeing how the next day would be undoubtedly long. Unsurprisingly, no one opposed him.

The foursome slowly made their back to the marble staircase and when they reached the upstairs foyer, it fell to Draco to show his classmate to the room she'd be occupying for the night. Before they separated from the two older Slytherins, Hermione turned and smiled politely at each of them. "Good night, gentlemen. Thank you both for allowing me to come here today and be a part of all this."

Lucius' smile sparkled in his tired blue eyes. "The pleasure's been all mine, my dear. I hope you sleep well."

"Thank you," she replied before looking back at the forbidding Potions professor. His outward demeanor was as cold as ever but his eyes seemed less guarded than usual. There was something about those inky-black orbs that captivated her each and every time they focused on her. It was as if she could fall into their fathomless depths and be content forever.

With an inward wince, she quickly shook off that last thought. Her internal monologue was starting to sound entirely too much like Lavender for her liking. If she wasn't careful, she was liable to start spouting poetry at any minute. Veering away from that hideous idea, Hermione flashed the wizard a rather cheeky grin. "Good night, Professor."

His right eyebrow twitched ever so slightly. "Good evening, Miss Granger."

And with that, she turned back to her blond-haired escort and followed him down one of the yet to be explored hallways in search of the guest quarters.

* * *

A/N: I took some liberties with Elfin magic in this chapter. It's fanfic so I can do that. ;)

Also, _never_ assume that you know what Severus Snape is up to. He is a beautiful enigma wrapped in a complicated mystery.


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

Draco led the way to the guest chambers that his father had requested be set up for the Muggle-born witch. Located in the east wing, it was the last room on the left of a long, seldom-used hallway. When they entered, it was obvious that the elves had done as bidden and had aired out the room, furnished it with fresh linens, and lit the fireplace. He flicked his wand to light the lamps as well.

"Well, this is it," he announced, then pointed to a closed door on the far wall. "The loo's through there."

Hermione glanced around the room, which was as luxurious as any four-star hotel but had a certain, cozy appeal that couldn't be found just anywhere. She turned to smile at the Head Boy. "It's very nice."

He nodded. "It was my mother's favorite of the guest rooms. Though I can't remember the last time someone stayed in here. Severus, and Aunt Bella before the crazy bitch was killed, always preferred the west wing and Mother was picky about who else she'd let sleep in here."

Surprise topped the list of the Gryffindor's current emotions. Side-stepping the reference to Bellatrix LeStrange — a _crazy bitch_ if there ever was one — she wondered who had made the decision to give her the "special" room. It had to have been Lucius, who had already proved himself more thoughtful and accommodating than she had ever expected. She looked around again, paying closer attention to the small details that must've been Narcissa Malfoy's handiwork.

"From the way Lucius talks, your mother sounds like she was a lovely woman," she said quietly, conscious of the boy's own obvious deference to the witch's memory. "I only saw her once, at the Quidditch World Cup a few years ago, and didn't get a chance to be introduced but I wish I had. Though, of course, none of us were on the greatest of terms back then." Hermione bit her lip and turned her back on the wizard on the pretense of removing her school robes. She had no idea what had possessed her to bring up that memory - it had been an awful night that had pitted her and the boys against the Malfoy family yet again - but that sort of faux pas was starting to become an embarrassing trend this weekend.

Unaffected by her chatter, Draco watched the girl slip off her robes and lay them across the end of the bed. It had been quite a while since he had seen her in anything other than their school uniforms and found that her choice of jeans and a jumper nicely accentuated her frame. She was short and petite but had adequate curves. All in all, she was a decent enough looking witch. His godfather certainly could do worse, which was precisely what he really wanted to discuss. "I don't doubt that you and Mother would've gotten along swimmingly had you gotten to know each other. She liked to argue with Severus too."

At the mention of the infuriating Potions Master, Hermione fell directly into the path the blond had intentionally laid. She sat down on the bed with a frown and began to unlace her boots. "I could've easily hexed him at least twice tonight."

Draco smirked as he crossed the room to sit on a white ottoman in the corner by the bed. "Yes, he was in good form tonight, wasn't he?"

The witch huffed and pulled her shoe off with a little more vigor than was entirely necessary. "He's driving me nuts! This whole situation is driving me nuts! One minute he's nearly flirting with me and the next he's being a complete bastard." She ripped off the other boot and slid them both under the bed. "I'm getting dizzy from trying to keep up."

"I'll admit, it is a rather odd means of seduction but I wouldn't expect any less from him. Severus is never going to be the chocolates and flowers type of bloke."

Hermione twisted around on the bed to face the pure-blood, folding her legs into a pretzel as she turned. "I don't want him to be. I have no interest in that kind of thing but a hint as to what he's thinking occasionally would be nice. After tonight's _performance,_ I'm more confused about his intentions than ever."

"I'm not," the Slytherin replied confidently, " _especially_ after tonight."

The hand that was halfway to her ponytail, intent on freeing the struggling curls, halted in midair. "You can't be serious. You don't honestly still think that he wants anything to do with me, do you? He did little more than torture me all night!"

"And gave you credit for one of the most astonishing potions that I've ever heard of," Draco reminded her. If that wasn't a declaration of the snarky man's feelings then he didn't know what was.

She pulled the rubber band out of her hair and ran her fingers through the still silky curls, thankful that Sleekeazy's lasted so long. "That's part of the problem. If he offered me credit just because he wants to sleep with me then I don't want it, which is precisely why I questioned it so much. Without coming straight out and saying so, I couldn't figure out how to make him understand that I don't need nor want a bribe in order to shag him senseless."

The boy's mouth fell open for an elongated moment before he began to laugh. "Perhaps you _should_ tell him that — point blank. I guarantee that something like that would get an unmistakable reaction out of him."

"Yeah, I'm sure it would. Too bad it'd likely be a horrific one," she said with a frown. "In case you've forgotten, he's a professor, an authority figure with the ability to have me expelled, and an overall gigantic arse."

"Yet one that you have no qualms with _shagging senseless_ ," Draco recounted, laughing again when the witch blushed. "The thing is, despite his position and his somewhat cranky disposition, Severus is still just a man. And you're obviously comfortable around men, considering those two gits you're always with."

"I've grown up with Harry and Ron," she argued, "and I still think of them as boys."

"A doubtlessly accurate assumption," he replied with a wicked grin. "What about Lupin then? He's Severus' age and you said you're _friends_ with him."

She rolled her eyes at the wizard's inflection, surprised that he hadn't stooped to using air quotes to get his point across. "Just friends, you prat. And that situation is completely different — it's easy to be comfortable around someone you're friends with."

"We're not friends and yet you feel comfortable enough to tell me what you're thinking _constantly_."

Hermione sighed and picked at a frayed string on the hem of her jeans but it wasn't the blond's snide comment that had her suddenly feeling so... she wasn't even sure what she was feeling - empty, maybe. She raised her eyes to the Slytherin. "The main problem is that Professor Snape seems to derive immense pleasure from belittling me at every turn."

"So do I, Granger. You're an easy target."

She scowled and wanted to smack him. "It's not the same."

Draco shook his head then ran his fingers through his hair in a dismissive sort of gesture. "I don't think you've quite got a handle on Severus' personality yet. Didn't you see how he and my father behave together?"

The Head Girl nodded slowly. The older wizards bickered constantly but there was a playful affability behind their taunts that alluded to their high regards for one another. When they argued, it became clear why their friendship had stood the test of time.

"That wasn't just for your benefit. They always act that way. It's just who he is," Draco explained, though he thought that that much should've been obvious. "It's not often that Sev finds someone who can withstand his snarkiness, let alone return it, so when he does, he doesn't hold back. It's his warped idea of fun."

"I can understand that, I guess," she admitted, remembering all the times he had only been pleasant after she had lost her temper with him. "I usually enjoy his sarcastic comments even when I want to hex him for them. It's sort of become a game of mine to riddle out what he's really trying to say."

A small smile crept across the youngest Malfoy's handsome features. "And that, it appears, is one of the reasons why he fancies you."

"Because I don't cower when he bites my head off?" she asked incredulously.

He smirked. "Can't you see how much he enjoys getting you worked up? He was obviously trying not to bust out laughing half the night."

In the back of her mind, Hermione had long since suspected that same theory. She could vividly remember the way amusement had danced in the professor's eyes during so many of their confrontations — the lemongrass debate, the night she had thrown the stack of Potions journals at him, and earlier that evening when he had made fun of her efforts with S.P.E.W. Whenever his words were the nastiest or his tone the foulest, his eyes were usually alight with mirth. In all honesty, it was one of the things that she enjoyed the most about him. That fiery glint in his dark eyes, along with the velvety steel of his voice, never failed to exhilarate her beyond belief. Apparently, he brought out masochistic tendencies in her that she didn't even know she possessed.

But still, despite that fact that she delighted in it, Hermione was a logical person at heart and she just couldn't resolve his enjoyment of pissing her off with the notion that he had feelings for her. She might not have much personal experience with romance but she couldn't remember being told a single fairy tale, magical or otherwise, that involved the prince irritating the princess so much that she'd end up throwing the glass slipper at his head in frustration.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, don't you?" Draco asked after several moments of the witch's silence. "And you enjoy it every bit as much as he does," he guessed.

She looked up and met his pale grey eyes with an impish grin, knowing that she didn't need to say anything for him to know the answer to that. The pure-blood's haughty, almost musical laughter filled the spacious guest room as he pushed himself up off the ottoman and compulsively straighten his robes.

"You two deserve each other," he remarked as he crossed the room towards the door. "Bunch of twisted, bloody sadists."

Hermione's brow furrowed as she watched his blond head disappear into the hall without another word. Was that it? He was just going to end their conversation like that? She sighed irritably and lay back on the mattress. Stupid Slytherins. Did the whole lot of them lack the ability to fully express their thoughts on any given subject without shutting down or reverting to insults? Did they teach that maddening tactic at first-year orientation?

After a few minutes of contemplating her rival House's social deficiencies, something landed on the Gryffindor's abdomen, startling her. Her eyes flew open to find the Head Boy standing over her with an amused expression and a rolled gray bundle lying across her stomach.

"They might be a bit big," he said, by way of explanation, "but they should suffice. If you leave your clothes in the hamper in the loo, the house-elves will wash them so you don't have to wear dirty clothes to the Ministry tomorrow. I seriously doubt that Severus will be taking you back to the school to change beforehand."

Hermione stared up at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. The Prince of Slytherin, hater of Mudbloods, and overall poncy git had thought to loan her, a living breathing contradiction to most of his beliefs, _pajamas_. The weekend was getting stranger and stranger by the minute. She cradled the gift like a newborn and pushed herself into a sitting position with her free arm.

"Thank you, Draco," she said, trying to suffuse her voice with friendly gratitude to drown out her shock. "That was really considerate of you."

"Don't feel too flattered, Granger. I just don't want you making us look bad in public," he drawled, walking back around the bed and settling into the armchair.

Throwing off that insult with the practiced ease learned from years of deflecting the blond's taunts, she watched him cross the room. He had obviously changed clothes while he was gone or had at least removed his school robes. Having spent the majority of the past seven years in the company of teenage boys, she was surprised at how different the pure-blood's outer appearance was from that of her best friends. Harry and Ron were never free from wrinkles, their hair was always untidy, and they slouched onto every piece of furniture they came in contact with with all the grace of a tap-dancing troll. In striking comparison, her companion for this evening walked with a ramrod-straight yet agile gait, was impeccably dressed without a single flaxen hair out of place, and sat upon the cushions of the linen chair, crossing his legs to rest an ankle on the opposite knee, in one flowing, refined motion. She could suddenly see why most of the female population at Hogwarts ogled the boy every time he entered a room and whispered animatedly about him in the castle's bathrooms, despite his obvious personality flaws.

The witch also realized that his mannerisms resembled those that she admired in Snape's fluid movements and even in Lucius' more regal, slightly pompous composure, which made her wonder where these similarities stemmed from. They couldn't be only pure-blood traits because none of the Weasley men possessed them — nor had Sirius, for that matter — and Snape was half-blooded, anyway. While Death Eater involvement seemed like a reasonable assumption — Voldemort would've obviously wanted his followers to inspire awe and respect — that theory had its faults as well, such as the fact that Draco had never taken the Dark Mark while bumbling oafs like Crabbe and Goyle had.

Sighing in the face of yet another unanswerable riddle, Hermione pushed herself completely off the bed and still cradling the pajamas, entered the adjoining bathroom. The room could've better been described as an in-house spa. With a contemplative and slightly longing glance at the enormous tub, easily the size of an average Muggle swimming pool, Hermione decided it'd be best to wait until the morning to bathe, seeing as her former nemesis was still waiting for her in the next room. She sat the borrowed pajamas on the stone countertop and removed her clothes, deciding to send her undergarments to be cleaned as well in the hopes of looking as presentable as possible for the following day's excursion.

After placing every stitch of clothing she had with her into the small hamper and fervently hoping that she'd get them back in one piece, the curly-haired witch unrolled the bundle on the counter. She couldn't help but laugh when she saw what the so-called helpful wizard had loaned her.

"Typical Slytherin behavior," she muttered as she pulled on the pajamas. The soft, gray T-shirt featured a large House crest on the front and had obviously belonged to Draco several years ago because it fit her smaller frame snugly. The bottoms, on the other hand, made of dark green cotton with dozens of little silver snakes running down the legs, were several sizes too big and hung low on her hips despite the tightly cinched drawstring. She propped her leg up on the counter to roll the excess material that pooled over her feet. The last thing she needed was to break her neck by falling over the silly things.

Once the trousers were satisfactorily adjusted, Hermione studied her reflection in the full-length mirror. She looked completely absurd and was immensely thankful that none of her housemates were around to see her dressed that way. Frowning at that thought, she quickly performed several mouth freshening charms before exiting the bathroom. Had she known that she was going to be spending the night away, she would've brought a toothbrush along with her own pajamas. No matter how long she lived in the wizarding world, there were certain Muggle essentials that she just couldn't part with. Maybe she had inherited her parents' over-the-top obsession with oral hygiene but her teeth never felt as clean using magic instead of good old-fashioned paste and a dentist-recommended brush.

When the girl re-entered the bedroom, Draco, who was still perched on the armchair, snorted loudly as he tried not to laugh. She put her hands on her hips and glared at him indignantly, which only served to make her look more ridiculous. The restrained laughter broke through in one violent burst and he had to double over from the pressure.

Hermione scowled at the hysterical wizard, adopting her most intimidating impression of Molly Weasley. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

The blond looked up and began to chuckle even harder, tears leaking out the corners of his eyes. "Not entirely," he managed to choke out, "but you have to admit that it's pretty funny."

She rolled her eyes. "You've got me dressed up like some poster girl for inter-house unity!"

Draco managed to control himself enough to sit back in the chair properly and wipe his eyes before giving the petite witch a critical once-over. "Maybe but you look hot. The absence of a bra works especially well in your favor."

The Muggle-born reflexively crossed her arms over her chest, cupping her sides and hiding her breasts. "Excuse me?"

He smirked. "Seriously. You've got a whole sexy-Slytherin thing going on. I bet if you were to stroll down to the dungeons looking like that, Severus would give you a whole lot more than just detention."

"Malfoy!" she exclaimed, color rising on her cheeks as she clutched her ribs tighter.

He laughed at her embarrassment before pulling a sleek, undoubtedly top-of-the-line camera out of his pocket.

"What do you think you're going to do with that?" she practically screeched, staring at the offending item with wide eyes.

The wizard looked up again and smiled mischievously. "Calm down, I just want to take a couple of pictures."

"You're out of your mind if you think I'm gonna let you take a picture of me like this. You'll stick them up all over the school!"

He grinned. Had his motives really been that obvious? "We have to record this for posterity, Granger. It's a once in a life time opportunity — the night the Gryffindor Head Girl became Slytherinized!"

Hermione shook her head wildly. "No way."

The lithe pure-blood stood up in one of those fluid motions that she had admired earlier. "Come on. Do it for Severus. We can slip one into his robes or something when he's not looking."

She took an instinctive step backwards as her brown eyes widened even further. "I couldn't do that!"

"But _I_ could."

"No—bloody—way," she repeated resolutely.

Draco rolled his eyes at her resistance. It wasn't like he was asking her to pose nude, for Merlin's sake. He had convinced at least a tenth of the school's female population to do that very thing with little more incentive than his seductive smile but that obviously wasn't going to work in this situation. Dealing with Gryffindors, he decided, was entirely too labor-intensive.

"Okay, if I promise _not_ to slip him a picture, will you let me take a couple?" he haggled, though he didn't have the slightest intention of abiding by the compromise.

Before she could dismiss his offer, the Seeker held up the camera and snapped a shot of a highly annoyed Hermione, who scowled as a tiny puff of purple smoke escaped the plastic casing in the boy's hand. He tapped the camera with his wand and it spit out a photograph, reminiscent of a Muggle Polaroid only faster and with the added benefit of the subject being able to move within the paper's border.

He examined the picture and made a face. "We're gonna have to do better than this, Granger."

"I don't remember giving you permission to take it to begin with," she hissed, snatching the evidence from his hand. The miniature copy of herself had its arms crossed over its chest and glowered darkly at the camera before stalking out of the frame in a huff. Hermione couldn't help but chuckle at her projected irritation.

Draco snapped another shot of the witch, this time laughing, and it proved to be a vast improvement. He tossed her the second photograph and with a bit more cajoling and empty promises, convinced her to allow him to take a few more. After the first couple, she warmed up to the idea and soon the wizard was calling out directives and furiously clicking away at each new pose the girl struck. There were nearly two dozen pictures littering the room by the time the pair of them sank to the floor, exhausted and giggly.

"I think I'll pin this one up on the notice board in the Slytherin common room," he said, picking up one of the moving photographs. "And maybe a few more in the Great Hall."

Hermione smacked his arm and snatched the paper out of his grasp. "No, you won't!"

"And this one," he continued, ignoring her and pointing to one of the little images that was busy blowing cheeky kisses towards the camera, "we should give to my dear godfather."

The life-size witch grinned at the idea even though she couldn't fathom a single situation in which she'd feel brave enough to do such a thing. "He'd probably have a heart attack."

The boy laughed, still tracking the picture's movement. "That's a fair bet."

"Draco," she said, suddenly turning pensive. "Can I ask you something?"

He glanced up with a raised eyebrow to show that he was listening but saw no reason to give the witch permission for something that she was going to do whether he wanted her to or not.

Hermione swallowed and looked down at the photograph still resting in her hands. "Why are you being so calm about all this?" Her eyes darted back to the wizard's handsome face. "I'm a Mudblood," she stated without the slightest quiver in her voice. "Why don't you care that your godfather may have feelings for someone like me?"

Whatever reaction she had been expecting, it wasn't the amused smirk that bloomed across his aristocratic features before he said, "I was wondering when that overfed mind of yours was going to question that." Her worried expression relaxed marginally in response to his sarcasm — this was the side of the Slytherin she was accustomed to, after all.

Draco sighed and gathered all the pictures into a small, neat pile before stretching out on his side and propping up his head in his hand. "The simplest answer," he began, fighting back the automatic impulse to preserve his family's secrets and tell the witch to mind her own bloody business, "is that I've never actually seen Severus happy — not truly happy, anyway. In fact, I don't think he's ever been honestly happy in his whole life."

Hermione's brow knitted. "Surely at some point...before Voldemort..."

He shook his head. "I don't think so. I don't know all the specifics but from what I've heard, his childhood was really horrible. Apparently, his father was a right bastard and used to hit him and his mum. And he wasn't exactly popular at Hogwarts, either."

"I thought he was friends with Lucius in school — all those stories your dad was telling..."

The wizard ran his free hand through his hair, which fell back into place effortlessly. "Father was older and kind of protected him from bullies. That's how they became friends. Later Severus fell in with all the other junior Death Eaters. He took the Mark during his seventh year."

Hermione shuddered slightly. She knew all too well where that decision had led. "Didn't he have any girlfriends in school?" she asked, opting for a lighter topic.

He made a face. "Not as far as I know. Several years ago, I heard Severus and Father talking about some girl but I didn't hear the whole story. From what I could make out, Sev fancied some chit and she ended up marrying another wizard. I don't think he ever got over it."

The Gryffindor felt a twinge in her chest at this news. She knew that the man had had a hard life, what with being a servant of a megalomaniac and a double spy, but to hear that he had been hurt in love, as well, pained her more than she thought it would. She suddenly wanted nothing more than to soothe those old wounds, even if he despised her for it and rebuffed her at every turn. A new determination to break through his thick barriers began to sizzle in her veins.

"He's done so much for me and my family these past few years," Draco continued, unaware that his audience's attention had drifted. "I just think that it's time for him to get what he wants in life," he gave her a pointed, slightly incredulous look, "even if that happens to be _you_. I can put aside my reservations if it means his happiness. That is, of course, if you promise that you aren't going to hurt him. If you use him, or cause him any more pain..." He didn't finish that sentence, but the threat of his intended revenge glinted ominously in his icy gray eyes.

Hermione smiled softly and shook her head. "I have no intentions of hurting him, Draco. Far from it."

The Malfoy heir gave her a calculating look before nodding in approval. "Then we have some planning to do." He rolled onto his back and rubbed his hands together as if plotting something evil. "This is all rather amusing, you know — the Head of Slytherin House and the Gryffindor Head Girl. Who would've ever thought?"

"I'm glad you think this is all so funny," she huffed. She didn't find the situation the slightest bit amusing, more like nerve-wracking to the point of nausea.

He turned his head towards her. "Trust me, Granger. This _is_ funny."

She tried her best to scowl at the wizard but knew that she failed miserably when he snickered again. She sighed and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. "So what am I supposed to do now? Sit around and wait for him to either claim me or come to his senses?"

Draco twisted onto his side again. "You'll be waiting a long time. I doubt that he'll ever make the first move, or even the second, especially while you're still his student."

"But if he waits until after school's over, it'll be too late. I'm going to university or will be starting an apprenticeship and will probably never see him again without good reason."

"Which is exactly why _you're_ gonna have to take the first step, sooner rather than later — immediately, if at all possible."

She began to fidget nervously with the folded cuff of her sleep pants. "But how?" she wondered out loud.

"Use your feminine wiles, Granger. Flirt with him. Argue with him." He shrugged. "It doesn't really matter how you do it, as long as you treat him like a man instead of your teacher."

Hermione scowled down at her legs, realizing she was completely out of her league. Fantasizing about seducing the surly git was one thing, actually doing it was something else entirely. "I don't know if I can do that."

"Sure you can. You were just talking about shagging him senseless, now it's time to do something about it!" He smirked at her pained expression. "Where's all that irrepressible Gryffindor bravery?"

She buried her face in her knees. "I obviously didn't pack it for this trip."

"Well, you better bloody well find it," he replied in exasperation. "If you want this to happen, you're gonna have to make it clear to him how you feel." He sat up and folded his long legs in front of him elegantly. "Do you honestly think he'd turn you down, even if I'm wrong about his feelings? How many women do you think are running around trying to get into Severus Snape's robes? I seriously doubt that he receives many propositions these days, given that he hardly ever leaves the castle and when he does, he's a complete arse to everyone he meets."

"But that still doesn't mean that I can just walk up to him and ask if he fancies a shag!" she exclaimed a bit hysterically. Why was she the only one who understood this point?

Draco's haughty laughter filled the room again as he pushed himself off the floor. "I'd personally give that idea more thought. Most men appreciate that kind of directness from a witch. But if you can't handle that much of a confrontation yet then just don't shy away from him. The next time he tries to bait you, fight back. Show him that you're not intimidated by him. And if you see an opportunity to do a little flirting while you're at, then for Merlin's sake, take it." He yawned and made for the door. "And now, I believe, I've had just about all the girl talk I can stomach for one night."

Hermione giggled despite herself. "Alright, good night and thanks. I couldn't have talked to anyone else about this."

The pure-blood's pale hand closed around the doorknob. "Just consider yourself in my debt, Granger." He turned and flashed a devilish grin. "And I expect to see a little more action tomorrow."

As the wizard disappeared into the hall and pulled the door closed behind him, the Head Girl smiled and shook her head, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the fact that not only did someone else know about and accept her attraction to the Potions Master but that it was someone she had assumed would never condone such a union. She scooped the wizarding photographs off the floor and placed them on the nightstand before pulling back the blankets on the bed and slipping between the sheets. Dousing the lights with a flick of her wand and settling herself back against the pillows, Hermione let out a contented sigh and tried to rein in her rampaging thoughts. Apparently, she was going to need as much sleep as she could get for the following day.


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

Despite the comfort of the large mattress and down-filled duvet, Hermione tossed and turned in the darkness of the Malfoy Manor's guest chambers for over an hour, trying in vain to fall asleep. She had had problems sleeping in unfamiliar places, even without so much on her mind, ever since she was a little girl. The first two weeks at Hogwarts had been hell on her sleep deprived, over-excited eleven-year-old self thanks to that particular affliction. Apparently, tonight wasn't going to be any different.

A book, she decided, was another thing she would've packed had she known that she'd be away from the castle overnight. The studious witch had learned long ago that she could read herself into a stupor on such occasions as long as the reading material wasn't too stimulating. A nice, well-read Muggle novel that she could fall into without too much effort or thought usually did the trick. Anything more academic than that would prove counterproductive. She read through several of her textbooks and a whole stack of tomes from the library in her first year before learning that little key. Her mild sleeping disorder was at least partly to blame for her intimate knowledge of _Hogwarts, A History_.

After another five minutes of listening to the thundering silence of the manor and replaying the weekend's events, Hermione let out a frustrated sigh, grabbed her wand, and sat up.

" _Lumos_ ," she breathed, igniting the tip and piercing the darkness with a pinpoint of light. She quickly scanned the walls but already knew that there weren't any bookshelves in the room. She leaned over the mattress and checked the two drawers of the nightstand. No luck there either.

She briefly considered summoning a house-elf, unsure if they'd actually respond since she wasn't a Malfoy, but her basal instincts wouldn't allow it. Despite all the evidence she had been given about the creatures' preference for a life of servitude, she still believed them to be repressed and unjustly taken advantage of.

Folding the blankets off herself, the Gryffindor saw only two options. She could either lay there for gods knew how long and try to sleep, leaving her groggy for the Ministry trip the next day, or she could venture downstairs and retrieve a book for herself. The thrill of having unsupervised access to the enormous Malfoy library decided the question in short dispatch. She crawled out of the king-sized bed and silently padded bare-foot out the door.

With the assistance of her wand, Hermione followed the memorized route back to the library. Living in an enormous, drafty castle with hidden passages and frequently moving staircases for seven years had instilled in her an adept navigational ability, though the skill was slightly harder to employ at night. She only got turned around once but was able to right herself quick enough.

When she pushed the library's double doors open, she was thankful to find the large fireplace was still lit and extinguished her wand with a murmured, " _Nox,_ " before making a beeline for the nearest set of illuminated shelves. She didn't know what she might find in this house of all houses that would prove benign enough to help her sleep but she was excited to browse the collection regardless.

"Miss Granger?"

Distracted from her pursuit by the sound of the all-too-familiar, yet unexpected voice, she spun around. Her surprise at seeing Snape sitting on the sofa in front of the fire coupled with her startled movement caught her off balance and she nearly toppled over.

"Professor!" she gasped as she struggled to keep herself off of the floor. "Gods, you scared me!"

"Obviously," he drawled, amusement evident in his tone. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

What was it about this venerable man that could make her feel like a first-year caught misbehaving with a just a single, simple sentence? Placing a hand over her racing heart, Hermione smiled sheepishly. "I couldn't sleep. Thought a book might help."

"Of course you did."

Ignoring the sarcastic connotation in his reply, she walked towards the center of the room. "Why are _you_ still awake? Are you that worried Mr. Malfoy will relapse? He seemed to be doing so well."

Severus kept his eyes trained on her approaching shadow. "No. I had trouble sleeping as well." His dark eyebrows rose sharply as the firelight illuminated the witch's form. "What in the name of Agrippa are you _wearing_ , Miss Granger?"

Startled by the sudden rise in his tone, the Head Girl quickly looked down at herself and then remembered exactly what she had on. Heat washed over her cheeks. Why on earth hadn't she thought to put her robes on before coming down here? She smiled bashfully again, more embarrassed this time because she could clearly see his expression. "Draco's idea of a joke, I suppose."

His eyes traveled quickly down her body and back up, being careful not to linger at any point too long. Even with the obvious disconcertment evident on her cheeks, he couldn't help but think that the petite little witch looked like some sort of advertisement for the incentives of his House. If she were spotted at Hogwarts dressed in that fashion, Dumbledore would end up with an office full of pubescent boys begging to be resorted.

"Indeed," he replied thickly. "Well, it's quite... Slytherin." The description fell lamely from his lips. His testosterone had wanted to use a different descriptive but his brain overrode that decision, just half a second too late to be indistinguishable.

Perceptive as always, Hermione picked up on his abrupt change in direction. She'd give all the Galleons in Gringotts to know what he had originally intended to say. "Yes, it's certainly that."

"You and Draco seemed to have put aside your differences rather effectively," he remarked, suspicion lacing his tone. He hated to speculate on what had transpired between his godson and the witch to convince her to don such an unusual ensemble. One did not simply end up in another's sleepwear by accident.

An unconscious smile lit the Gryffindor's face, knowing what had been the cause of such an improbable truce. "You're mostly to thank for that, Professor."

Only years of perfecting an inscrutable mask kept the grimace off his face. "Indeed," he muttered again, suddenly regretting the decision to bring her here and involve her with his pseudo-family. The thought that he might have to witness the two former enemies blossom into a couple right under his nose made him ill.

They stared at each other for a long moment. The intensity in the professor's dark eyes made Hermione's stomach flip-flop but after enduring the awkward silence for what felt like ages, he sighed heavily and looked away without further comment.

"Well, I'll just choose a book and go back to my room," she said softly, feeling like she had just missed an irreplaceable opportunity to talk with the tight-lipped wizard. She had failed before Draco's "plan" had even gotten off the ground. "I'm sorry for disturbing you." She turned back towards the bookshelves that she had been so excited about a moment ago but found they didn't hold the same allure now.

As Severus watched the curly-haired witch walk away, an unsettling desire to stop her seized him. His conscience tugged on him uncomfortably to finally explain his recent behavior. Merlin, how he hated that nagging voice in his head. It wasn't surprising that it sounded a lot like Minerva McGonagall at that moment.

"Actually, Miss Granger," he called, halting the Head Girl in her tracks, "there's something that I need to discuss with you before we go to the Ministry tomorrow. Now is as good a time as any."

Hermione wondered if he had somehow heard her silent plea as she turned around, her eyes wide and curious. She walked back towards him silently, closer this time than before, his words running through her head over and over in quick succession. He needed to speak to her about something _before_ they went to the Ministry. Was he about to admit that offering her credit for the Cruciatus potion had been a ruse? Or had he changed his mind on that accord, simply because he could?

"Sit," he ordered, his tone falling short of the authoritative bark he had tried for. Apparently, the pleasing setting of the manor's library was going to rob him of all his dignities tonight.

Ever the obedient student, she took the command like any he had given in the classroom and immediately made to sit on the opposite side of the sofa from him. She tucked one bare foot underneath her and looked up at him expectantly. She was profoundly thankful that the wizard couldn't hear her heart pounding against her ribs.

Severus leaned down to set the book he had been reading on the coffee table as he tried to determine how best to approach the forthcoming discussion. This revelation was something he had both been anticipating and dreading for weeks now. Its outcome would all hinge on how he delivered the news and how accepting the little witch beside him could be. He sat back with a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

During the pregnant silence that weighed down on them, Hermione tried to focus on anything other than her accelerated pulse. The first thing that caught her attention was the book that the wizard had laid on the table in front of them. _Pride and Prejudice_ by Jane Austen — the very last type of thing she would ever suspect the ex-Death Eater to be reading. Virtually any other book in the world would've been less conspicuous. She wanted desperately to comment on his highly out of character literary choice but held her tongue. She wouldn't allow anything to deter him from whatever it was he was about to say. She looked back at the Potions Master and watched as he kneaded the skin between his dark eyebrows.

The professor cleared his throat before finally beginning to speak. "First, I wanted to thank you again for your contribution and assistance with the potion. You exceeded my expectations, which is saying something because of all my students, I've always held you to the absolute highest standards."

Hermione simply stared at him, though he still wasn't looking in her direction. She had no idea how to respond to a compliment of that magnitude coming from a man that very rarely said anything nice to anyone.

"I also wanted to commend you on your behavior today," Severus continued without missing a beat, trudging forward with his speech despite having already ventured well past any perceivable comfort zone. "It took a great deal of courage to come here in the first place and confront Lucius after the way he treated you and your friends in the past, but the real testimony to your character was your secondary reaction. To be sympathetic, forgiving, and most importantly, _kind_ towards him in the face of your shared history, spoke volumes about what kind of witch you've become. I found myself wholly impressed."

If she thought she had been surprised by his first statement then she was downright flabbergasted by his last. He was _wholly impressed_ by her character? Good Grindylows, she'd apparently stepped into some sort of parallel universe instead of the Malfoys' library. Nevertheless, this time she felt she had to come up with some sort of response, however inadequate it may be, lest he think that she didn't appreciate his praise. "Thank you, sir," she very nearly whispered, grateful that her voice didn't crack at least. "Coming from you, that means more to me than you'll ever know."

For the first time since she sat down, the wizard turned to look at her. His dark eyes fixed on hers as if he were reading her thoughts. Hermione consciously kept her Occlumency shields down, though he never entered her mind. If he had, she would've given him full access to the depth of her gratitude and perhaps a peak at other, more intimate emotions as well.

"Those things, however, have little to do with what it is we need to discuss," he said, a bit disconcerted by her response. The accolades were all true, after all, not to mention way overdue, but their real purpose had been to put the girl at ease before delivering his actual _news_.

Severus sat for a moment longer, contemplating his next words. His right index finger slowly traced the tight line of his mouth. "No doubt, you've become suspicious of the detentions you've received this term, especially after finding your disciplinary record conspicuously bare."

"Yes, sir," she replied, her pulse fluttering again. Was this it? Was this the moment when she'd finally learn the answer to the seemingly unsolvable riddle she had been immersed in for months?

"I'm quite surprised that you've refrained from asking a single question along those lines since returning the evidence."

She gave him a small grin. "To be honest, the only reason that I didn't was because I couldn't figure out how to ask and still be allowed to work with you on the potion. I decided that assisting you was more important to me, immediately anyway, than knowing the truth."

"Hmm, interesting," he murmured, looking back into the girl's expressive eyes. "And would you like to know the truth now?"

She sucked a slow, deep breath between her teeth to steady her nerves and nodded. "If you're willing to tell me," she replied, barely loud enough to be heard over her thundering heart. He was finally going to admit that he was completely and unequivocally in love with her… Damn! That voice, the one that sounded too much like Lavender Brown, was back. The rest of her mind, the practical, sensible parts, sought out the breathless noise and squashed it with a crashing blow. She couldn't let such ridiculous notions take root, not right now. Instead she focused her thoughts on listening to the professor's explanation, whatever it may be, and watching the little snakes on her trouser legs dance in the firelight. The suspense was utter torture.

"Not the most convincing argument I've ever heard, but effective nonetheless."

She looked up sheepishly. "It's all I've got."

The corners of his mouth twitched for a fraction of a second before he began. "At the end of the summer, I was faced with a rather difficult decision. With the war over, I was no longer required to stay at Hogwarts. I could finally leave if I so wished."

"You can't leave! That'd be horrible!" the witch interjected without thinking, her eyes wide. She couldn't even imagine how empty the castle would be without his billowing robes stalking its halls.

A grin, more flattered than feral, spread across the man's face, softening his severe features to a remarkable degree. It only lasted a second but the change was burned into Hermione's psyche. She'd do just about anything to see that look directed at her more often.

"Might I ask what you meant by that?" Snape questioned, meeting her gaze with a cocked brow.

"I... I just..." she stammered, stopped, and took a breath. Draco's words came back to her. _Treat him like a man... Show him you're not intimidated._ Right, easier said than done, Malfoy. She took another deep breath. "I just meant that I couldn't imagine you leaving for my final year," she explained, her voice reasonably steady. "You've taught us all since we were first-years. It'd feel wrong to have someone else criticizing our every move in the dungeons."

He smirked but was silently gratified. Most of his pupils would snap their wands for the chance to be rid of him. "And yet, I've gotten the distinct impression this term that you've grown bored in my class and dissatisfied with the curriculum."

Hermione willed the embarrassment away from her cheeks. She hadn't realized that he had picked up on her discontentment but it shouldn't surprise her. "I don't really blame you for that. You're a very good teacher, despite that fact that you can be quite terrifying at times. I understand the need to teach the lessons that you do and for most of the class, it's fine. Merlin knows Harry's struggling as it is. But I can't help feeling the need for a bit of a challenge sometimes."

He seemed to digest this for a moment before replying. "Understandable coming from the girl that could brew Polyjuice at twelve."

"Thirteen, actually," she corrected automatically before fully comprehending what he had said. She grimaced slightly. "I didn't realize that you knew about that." Reason dictated that Snape, as the resident Potions Master, had likely been consulted about her condition following that incident and had surely been the one to brew the counter-potion Madam Pomfrey had forced her to drink daily during her recovery, but she had never liked to dwell on those thoughts for very long.

"There's very little that your troublesome trio did that I was not aware of," he said, confirming her fears. "I knew what you were attempting as soon as the ingredients disappeared from my stores. I did not, however, believe that you'd actually be successful." He restrained himself from commenting on the disastrous outcome - the germane point was that she had _brewed_ it flawlessly. "Quite impressive at that age, I must say. I suppose that that's the type of challenge you miss?"

She nodded, marveling at the odd little tête-à-tête she had stumbled into. "I haven't had a single peaceful year since starting at Hogwarts and I've always yearned for one, but now that I've got it... I feel a tad restless." The war-wizened witch frowned, knowing that those feelings were an insult to all the people who'd suffered to bring about the peace she was complaining about — the Order's former spy at the top of that list. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not wishing for anything dangerous like facing off against a murderous lunatic again. I'd settle for learning something that makes my heart race a little." Her smile, a tad wistful this time, returned. "Working on your potion did that."

He tilted his head in acknowledgement. That was exactly what he had been hoping to hear. "I understand that desire all too well," he admitted thoughtfully as the discussion circled back around to his intended topic. "I seriously considered leaving Hogwarts and traveling the world in search of that very same feeling. Oddly enough, though, after years of wishing for little else, I found that I didn't want to leave." He smirked at the irony. "Instead I decided to embark on a new challenge, something possibly more dangerous than betraying the Dark Lord and infinitely more stupid. For the first time ever, I decided to take on an apprentice."

Hermione stared at the wizard, utterly engrossed in his story but completely confused. This wasn't at all the discussion she had been expecting, or hoping for, and couldn't quite grasp how it related to her.

Severus noticed the Muggle-born's bewildered expression. Apparently, he was going to have to be more precise. " _You_ , Miss Granger."

The Head Girl's mouth dropped open as his meaning hit her like a Stunner to the chest. Everything began to swirl almost violently in her head and then suddenly, nothing made sense at all. "Excuse me?"

"With the Headmaster's permission, I enrolled you in a trial apprenticeship program at the beginning of the semester," he explained patiently, feeling relieved to be finally done with the charade. "The time that you've served in detention, along with the hours spent in my lab, have been logged as tutorial hours. They were obviously never put on your disciplinary record as their cause, for the most part, was utter fabrication."

Realization slowly but surely dawned on her befuddled mind as the puzzle pieces sunk into place. He had registered her as an apprentice. She, Hermione Granger, was to become a Potions Mistress under the tutelage of Severus Snape. Yes, that's what he had said, but no, it didn't make the slightest bit of sense. He had been taunting her for weeks, had argued with her about the most ridiculous things, and had purposely kept the real reason from her for gods knew why.

Her brow creased into a maze of worry lines. "Why didn't you tell me any of this before? Why have you been lying to me all this time?"

Severus sighed heavily, regretfully even, and briefly thought about hunting down a bottle of Lucius' Firewhisky to help him through this conversation. He knew that he had gone about it the wrong way but he had had to be sure he was making the right decision.

He glanced back at her questioning eyes. "I've never taken on an apprentice, Miss Granger. With everything else on my plate, I've never had the time to devote to such a commitment. I've also never found someone worthy enough of the position that I could imagine myself working with for any length of time. I wanted to be absolutely sure about the decision before informing you. Your behavior over the past few weeks, especially in regards to the potion yesterday, proved that my assumption was correct. I believe that you will make a talented Potions Mistress someday, if you so choose."

"So this has all been a test? All the detentions, the merciless critique on my performance in class, goading me into arguments and debates? It was all for the sake of seeing if I measured up to whatever _ridiculous_ standard you had in your head?" she asked shrilly as a ball of dread started to form deep in her stomach. She had been so wrong — they all had, Remus, Draco, and probably even Lucius, though she hadn't heard his opinion firsthand. Everyone had presumed Snape to have certain feelings that were now proven to be so incredibly off base. How had they all misread the wizard's behavior so drastically?

"You could say that, I suppose, but it was more than that," he replied, though she had nearly forgotten the question, as embroiled in emotional turmoil as she was. "In case you haven't been paying attention the past seven years, I'm not an easy person to be around. A partnership of this magnitude would never be successful if we weren't able to work together. Had you been either too timid to stand up for yourself or too arrogant to follow my orders, I would've called the whole thing off without you ever knowing about it. I did not doubt your technical ability. It was more the personality issues that gave me pause."

She shook her head, trying to clear out the lingering cobwebs of confusion. He had basically just admitted to being a complete bastard and had purposely acted as such to be sure she could handle his causticness. But _why_? "I still don't understand. I've always been under the impression that you've despised me and this year you've seemed to only drive that fact home. Why on earth would you want to mentor me?"

The professor's expression was unreadable as he contemplated her words. "My personal opinions of you have nothing to do with it. I recognized your talent early on, probably since your first year at Hogwarts. You've never had an inherent flair for Potions but you've always more than compensated for that fact by applying yourself, your knowledge, so fiercely. You're undeniably the brightest student I've ever taught. I consider it my _obligation_ to assist in furthering your education, whether that means instructing you myself or providing you with a recommendation that no Master could discount. If you do not wish to accept this apprenticeship, the hours you have fulfilled can be transferred to another position." He glanced at her again. "The choice is yours, Miss Granger."

She nodded slowly but didn't respond immediately and the wizard turned back to the fire, apparently misinterpreting her silence for a need to think things over. It made sense. This was a pretty big bombshell to drop in someone's lap but Hermione didn't need to consider her options. She had done that long ago. True, this wasn't the scenario she had envisioned, not even close, but she had still known her answer before the question was even posed. Now, she only needed to make her tongue work again.

"Did you know that I've been applying for Potions programs?" she asked, wanting the full picture before committing herself.

He didn't turn back to her. She watched the fire reflect off his pale facial features, the rest of him swallowed by the black shadows of his hair and robes. He made for a striking silhouette.

"I have an entire drawer of letters requesting recommendations on your behalf. I have been receiving them since late summer but have yet to respond until I knew how this would work out." The corner of his mouth curled. "Are there any programs to which you haven't applied?"

Hermione chuckled, marveling at how easy the sound escaped her throat given the way her stomach was churning. "I wanted to have my options open. I've never been one to leave things up to chance."

He murmured wordlessly in agreement. She'd always been a planner to nth degree — an obsession that had proven irreplaceable during the war and one that boded quite well for her future in his profession. A well-ordered mind was the cornerstone to being a successful Potions Master or Mistress.

"But honestly," she continued in a nervous whisper, "I couldn't imagine anyone better to study under than you, Professor. I never dared to hope for it, given the circumstances, but I'd be an utter fool to decline."

Severus snapped his head around to study her expression, searching for any inkling of dishonesty in her words. He found none. Her feelings were transparent and gratitude evident. He tried to smile at the little witch but being severely out of practice with such things, the best he could manage was a pleasant sort of twist of his mouth. "I was hoping you'd see it that way."

She smiled brilliantly in the flickering light, in the face of such a life-altering change of events. She was sure that the shock had yet to catch up with her. The extreme highs and lows of the past half hour were far too immense to process in such a short period of time. She hoped that she'd be able push the worst of the realization away until she was back at the castle, in the privacy of her own rooms. It'd undoubtedly hit hard when it did come.

Meanwhile, feeling as if the hardest part was over and that the storm had passed with less collateral damage than he had expected, Severus turned on the sofa, angling himself towards the Gryffindor and resting his elbow against the backrest. "Is there anything that you'd like to know about the apprenticeship? Now is the time for your incessant questions. I'm in an uncharacteristically good mood."

"My gods, if that isn't one for the record books." And she laughed again, at the sheer absurdity of it all. Severus Snape, bastard extraordinaire and _her_ Potions Master, being in a mood other than contemptible and actually soliciting her inquiry. The whole world must be burning down around them.

"Yes, sir," she replied after she calmed back down. "Please tell me everything."

He feigned a long-suffering sigh, which only elicited another giggle, before launching into his explanation. "The term for a Potions apprenticeship is three years. In that time, you must fulfill a whole host of requirements. Tutorial hours, brewing hours, teaching hours, et cetera, along with researching, planning, and creating at least one original potion. At the end of your contract you'll be tested by the Ministry on your knowledge and skill, not unlike an intensified version of the N.E.W.T. exams. If you pass their inspection, of which I have no doubt, you'll be granted the title of master, or in your case, mistress."

Hermione nodded along at all the proper places. She knew all of this, of course, from her prior reading on the subject but she wouldn't stop him if her life depended on it. He had spoken more pleasantly and for a longer expanse this evening than he ever had before in her presence. "Three years?" she asked, playing along. "Am I to stay at Hogwarts?"

He nodded. "I believe that will be the easiest for us both. You'll be provided with private quarters in the castle once you've graduated and will remain there until your apprenticeship is complete. The Headmaster has already made the arrangements. He was rather certain that you'd accept."

"Professor Dumbledore's knew about all this? The entire time? All the detentions?" she asked, suddenly feeling somewhat betrayed that the elderly wizard hadn't bothered to share this information with her either. Snape was one thing. His motives and actions were always shrouded in secrecy and you had to accept that fact when interacting with him. But she felt Dumbledore should have been reliably more candid somehow.

"Didn't you wonder why he never stepped in on your behalf?"

She sighed. "Yes, but I didn't want to give _you_ the satisfaction of asking him or Professor McGonagall for help." She shook her head then glared at him. "You've driven me insane these past few months, you know."

To her surprise, the wizard laughed. It wasn't the cold, scornful laughter she had become acquainted with over the years but true, amused laughter. The rich baritone sound reverberated through the library and seemed to settle deep in her bones. She smiled as she watched the laugh lines on his face, normally hibernating from neglect, deepen. Oddly enough, they made him look younger, peaceful, almost like the person he could've been had life not been so hard on him. She was transfixed.

"I apologize for any distress I might have caused you," he replied once he had composed himself. "I must admit though, it has been quite humorous to witness. You showed great restraint in not hexing me." She gave him a half-hearted scowl. "If it restores your faith in him, Albus did request that I tell you," he added. "He feared I was pushing you too hard but I knew that you could withstand it."

Hermione shook her head again. This was all so surreal. She had talked with Snape before, of course. They had had discussions during her so-called detentions, had brewed together, and had even minced words once or twice at Order meetings at the height of the war but this felt different. She wasn't sure if it was his seemingly relaxed demeanor, the way he was causally peppering their conversation with compliments like it was an everyday occurrence, or the intimate feel of the fire-bathed library, but it was as if for the first time, she was talking with the man and not the various titles he held. She had a feeling that she could get entirely too used to this sort of thing and that was now dangerous. She'd have to deal with this apparently one-sided attraction if she could ever hope to function under his tutelage.

Again, Severus mistook the girl's silence for something else — discomfort, maybe — and he quickly reapplied himself to explaining the intricacies of her yet unsigned contract. "Apprentices don't receive a salary during their tenure but all of your expenses will be taken care of. You'll receive room and board at the castle and during any traveling that we may do. I'll provide any ingredients and supplies that you might require, as well as a stipend for your more personal needs. You will also accrue royalties from any potion that you create under my supervision."

At this point, Hermione interrupted him to ask a question. "I was under the impression that any potions created by an apprentice were automatically registered to their master and that the student retained no claim to the rights or royalties. Has that changed?"

The older wizard shook his head, not in the least surprised that she knew about this traditional stipulation. He was quite sure the witch had read and memorized every fact she could find on apprenticeships, long before his offer had come along. "That has always been the way of things and still is for the most part, but the decision is left to the sole discretion of the master. I personally see no justice in taking credit for anything you produce. I'm not doing this to make a profit off of work that is not mine as some would. You'll retain full ownership for anything that you create, as well as partial credit for anything that we work on together."

Her brow furrowed at this. "You mean I'll be getting royalties from the Cruciatus potion?"

"Yes," was his only answer, correctly sensing that she wasn't going to be happy about it. He hadn't anticipated how hard she would fight him on this whole point. Anyone else would jump at the chance to have their names on such a revolutionary discovery, especially one that would come with a healthy-sized wage every month, but no. He was saddled with the one witch that had to cling to some ridiculously inaccurate sense of ethical high ground. Damn Gryffindors. He'd never get this type of resistance from someone in his own House.

"I don't want them," she replied, her tone even but insistent. "I already told you that I don't think I deserve even partial credit, I certainly don't deserve money from it."

"You are entitled to both," he argued, rubbing his temple. "I might have misled you quite a bit this year but I'm being completely forthright when I say that you helped make the potion what it is."

Hermione frowned but for the first time felt that there was nothing but truth to his words. It was obvious now that he wasn't trying to get in her pants. He was, as far as she could tell, actually trying to advance her future and give her credit where he felt it was legitimately due. It still felt unfair somehow. "I'll accept my name being attached to it but I don't want the royalties. It was your discovery, you put in the lion's share of the work, you should profit from it, not me."

He looked at her like she was some exceptionally dull-witted troll and sighed. "Very well, a compromise then. I'll put your share of the money towards the cost you incur during our partnership. Would that be more acceptable?"

She considered the offer for a moment and conceded that it was probably the best she was going to get. The stipend would still officially go to him; he'd just use it to recoup the expenses that he'd normally have to allow out of pocket for an apprentice. And since he wouldn't be taking credit for her future creations, as most Masters did, he'd literally be teaching her for free. That wouldn't do but she'd have to tackle that problem later. For now, this negotiation seemed reasonable enough. "I suppose that's fair."

Severus sighed again, more contented this time. "Fine."

"Was this all part of the test, too?" she asked after a quiet pause. "Letting me help with the potion and bringing me here? Had you calculated that into your... _plan_?" She had wanted to use the word _scheme_ but couldn't quite find the nerve.

He smirked at the girl's omission and wondered how long it would take before she'd overcome this residual fear and tell him exactly what she was thinking without edit. He'd wager it wouldn't last the school year. He had already seen flashes of it when she got riled up enough. "No. That was completely beyond my doing. You came to me, remember? But I did concede that I'd have to allow you in my laboratory at some point so I took advantage of the misplaced solicitude. And as for bringing you here, I was again being honest when I said that you deserved to witness the experiment this morning. You earned it."

Hermione smiled, satisfied with his assurances. "Good. I'd hate to have this whole experience tarnished by your dastardly plotting."

To her immense delight, he laughed again, rich and full-bodied, and she had to breathe deeply to force the sudden palpitations in her chest to calm to a reasonable level. She honestly had no idea how she was supposed to handle this new predicament. This weekend had changed everything so much. She herself had been irreversibly changed.

The Head Girl began to try and make sense of all the incongruities in her head. One of the very first obstacles that came to mind was the boys' reactions to the news of her apprenticeship. After everything they had seen her struggle through with Snape this term, how was she supposed to tell them that she was going to be under the snarky's man's singular instruction for the next two and a half years? Worse yet, how was she to explain that she was utterly ecstatic about it?

As the witch's attention drifted to places unseen, Severus grew quiet and introspective again. He began to mentally catalog some of the things that he wanted to teach his apprentice, now that he could be sure he had one. The list, even in its infancy, was lengthy and he was positive that it contained quite a few things that would boggle her inexperienced mind and make her heart race as she so desired. As a Potions Master who had dabbled in both Light and Dark magic, he could show her things that none of his colleagues would dare. And teaching her, he knew, would prove so much more enjoyable and rewarding than trying in vain to impart any type of knowledge to the rest of the imbecilic pupils that were forced upon him. He had never thought it would but he had to admit that the idea of private tutelage of this degree was really starting to enthrall him.

Forgetting for the moment that she wasn't alone, Hermione giggled as she imagined her best friends' reactions when they learned of all the revelations she had made. After a screaming match loud enough to rattle the windows, it was likely they'd demand that she be checked for signs of the Imperius Curse, Polyjuice, or some other such nonsense.

When Snape looked over at her questioningly, she felt her ears grow warm. Right, he was still beside her. Bugger. "Sorry."

He waved off the sentiment dismissively like an errant insect. "No matter. Care to tell me what amused you?"

She wrinkled her nose. "I was just thinking of how to explain all of this to Harry and Ron."

"Ah, the infamous _dunderheads_ ," he replied, a ghost of a sneer curling on his lips. "I'd nearly been able to forget about them this weekend."

The Gryffindor ignored his comment with the same ease she had used with Draco earlier. "They're probably pacing the castle right about now. I didn't exactly tell them where I was going, let alone that I'd be gone so long. I really should've sent an owl or something."

Severus was a bit taken back by this. The trio of troublesome children he been trying to keep alive for seven very long years never seemed to do anything without the other two-thirds knowing about it. He wanted to question why she hadn't informed them of her whereabouts but decided against it. "I believe the Headmaster has taken care of that problem for you," he replied instead.

"Oh," she said in surprise. "Well, that's good. One less confrontation to worry about."

His eyebrow arched elegantly. "You're expecting more?"

"Telling them that I've committed to a three year apprenticeship with _you_?" She winced just thinking about it. "Yes, there'll definitely be a confrontation. A huge one."

"Is the idea of you working with me that distasteful?" he asked, hoping the words didn't sound as petulant as they felt.

"Oh, no. Not to me," she assured him quickly. "Not at all. But I doubt that Harry and Ron are going to think too highly of the whole idea."

He considered her words for a moment, gratified, and was serious when he said, "Yours is the _only_ opinion that I'm concerned with, Miss Granger."

Hermione felt an invisible shiver run down her spine as his words washed over her like silk. This whole situation would be so much easier if she could still see him as a thoroughly unpleasant, albeit brilliant, teacher and nothing more, but after this weekend she knew that she'd never be able to think that way again. She was well and truly screwed.

Carefully avoiding any reply that would embarrass them both, the Head Girl posed another question. "So what do we have to do tomorrow to make it official?"

"You'll only need to sign a few documents, I believe. I've already filled out all the paperwork. There's no Unbreakable Vow or anything of that nature."

"So if this ends up being a complete disaster, I can get out of the contract?" she asked, trying to be as diplomatic as possible. Despite everything she could envision for their partnership, who knew what would actually happen over a period of three years with the obstinate man? They could just as easily end up at each other's throats as in each other's beds.

He smirked, not offended in the slightest by her practical approach. An exit strategy was the first thing he had ascertained as well. This _was_ the same girl that set him on fire at twelve. "Yes. And as I said, your accumulated hours will transfer to another master if this doesn't work out." He gave her a deadpan expression. "You will not have to resort to killing me off and disposing of the body."

Hermione giggled at the ex-Death Eater. "That's good to know. I'd hate to have to deal with all the pesky questions _that_ would raise."

As she hoped it would, her retort brought about another guffaw from the dark-haired wizard. It was proving rather easy to channel her past irritation with him into sarcasm. It was also a relief to know that she could make the saturnine man laugh instead of being immediately struck down with cruelty or threats for her insolence. If it wasn't for the awkward, one-sided sexual tension, talking with Snape would almost be like talking with Draco.

Buoyed by that comparison, Hermione decided to test the boundaries of his hospitable mood, wanting to know just how much leeway she had gained in their new alliance. "May I ask something else? It's unrelated but it's driving me crazy."

Severus groaned inwardly. It would probably prove impossible to have a relaxed working rapport with the girl without opening himself up to her unrelenting curiosity. But if he were honest with himself, a small part of him wanted to know what she would ask almost as much as she seemed to want to ask it, even if allowing her that liberty would make it that much more difficult to shut her up in the future.

Torn by indecision, the Slytherin sighed. "I doubt I could stop you. I'm unable to deduct House points from here."

"And we both know your detention threats are completely bogus."

He tipped his head slightly in acknowledgement and she grinned. "I'm just a bit curious about your choice in books," she said, gesturing towards the leather-bound tome on the table. "I never figured you for a Jane Austen fan."

"Oh," he replied with a hint of surprise, sparing a glance for the accused novel. It wasn't the type of question he'd been expecting but it did seem glaringly obvious now that she'd be interested in such a thing. "I just picked up something innocuous to read. She was one of my mother's favorite authors."

"But your mother was a witch, wasn't she?" Hermione asked before grimacing and pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. She knew that there was a narrow differential between testing her boundaries and overstepping them with the private wizard and she was already tittering on the edge. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to be nosy."

"Gryffindors come about that trait naturally, Miss Granger," he replied offhandedly. "Yes, my mother was a witch but my father hated everything to do with magic. Since he wouldn't allow any magical books in the house, she collected Muggle literature instead."

She wanted to comment on that, to ask him more about his parents but knew that would be pushing things entirely too far. Instead, she flashed him a small smile. "Well, she had good taste. _Pride and Prejudice_ is one of my absolute favorite novels."

"It was one of hers as well," he replied, a twinge of remorse stuck in his throat. He hadn't talked about his mother in a very long time. "She used to read it to me when I was very young."

The next question popped out before she could stop it. "Rather odd thing to read to a small child, isn't it?"

His brow wrinkled at some unseen memory. "Perhaps but it was a normal occurrence. She once told me that of all types of Muggle literature, tales of romance made the most sense to her because even magic couldn't tamper with such things." There was an undeniable tone of distaste surrounding the word _romance._

Hermione smiled despite his connotation. She had often felt same way. Witches and wizards had the same problems in love as everyone else. And other Muggle genres — adventure, mystery and the like — hadn't been able to hold her interest after she was introduced to the magical world. How scary could stories about witches be when she was one herself? How could a tale about dragons expect to excite her when she had actually seen one born? "It sounds like she was a smart woman."

"She had a brilliant mind before he destroyed it," he snapped bitterly, shocked by the admission even as the words passed his lips. How was it that this little slip of a witch could get him to discuss things that even his closest friends hadn't? Angry with himself for revealing something so private, he turned back to the fire. The blasted girl's crooked smile was far too distracting.

Sadness gripped Hermione's chest painfully as he turned away from her. Apparently, they had just stumbled across the threshold of his patience. She tried to imagine the man beside her being raised in such animosity — no wonder he had turned out the way he had. With a quiet sigh, she endeavored to change the subject again. "Interesting book to be in a pure-blood home, though, especially this one. Somehow I can't imagine Lucius curling up by the fire to enjoy the misadventures of Elizabeth Bennet's love life."

Despite his irritation, Severus snorted at this notion. "It belonged to Narcissa. She was a closet romantic and amassed a huge collection of books and poetry over the years. Lucius never could tell that woman no." He pointed at the library's balcony. "The entire second floor belonged to Narcissa and I'd be willing to bet that over half of the books up there were written by Muggle authors."

"Wow," Hermione breathed, squinting up at the darkened shelves that stretched to the top of the vaulted ceiling. "Still seems a little strange. Wasn't she a Dea— _supporter of Voldemort_?" She bit her lip again at her near slip.

The wizard turned back and glared at her sternly, though it wasn't for the reason she imagined. "You're one of the last people I'd expect to be afraid of calling a spade a spade, Miss Granger."

Hermione's mouth opened, shut, and then opened again before she was able to respond. "I'm not afraid. I just didn't want to be rude."

"Ah," he smirked. "Rest assured that _I_ am not offended by the term Death Eater. I'd never ask anyone to forget that that is what I am."

"What you _were_ ," she corrected boldly. He may have worn the Dark Mark until Voldemort's recent demise but he hadn't truly been a Death Eater for a very long time.

Severus sighed but conceded with a curt nod of his head. He saw no use in arguing the point with the girl. No need to burden her with the knowledge that what once was will always be. He stewed on that fact enough as it was. "Regardless," he said dismissively, "Narcissa was never a Death Eater."

"Oh. I just assumed." And she had. Even after the discussions she had had with Draco earlier, she still thought that both the boy's parents had been members.

"I'm sure most people did, with her being married to Lucius, but she did not take the Mark and never wanted to. That's not to say that she didn't buy into a good amount of the propaganda. She was far from sainthood, I assure you."

"Draco told me earlier that she and I would have gotten along well — swimmingly, I think, was his wording," she replied, a hint of question in her tone.

Severus wondered at that. So Draco had discussed his mother with her. How oddly out of character for the youngest Malfoy. Apparently the witch had the same effect on his blond-haired godson as she had on him — utter abandonment of self-preservation and control. Could he find it in his bruised heart to feel happy that Draco had made that kind of connection with the girl? A furious growl of jealousy ricocheted through his chest in response. He swallowed thickly. "No doubt you would have. Narcissa would've probably found you fascinating. She was...an interesting witch."

"You knew her in school, didn't you?" Hermione asked, unaware of the professor's current state of mind.

"Narcissa was a fifth-year when I started at Hogwarts," he supplied in forced composure. "Because she was already besotted with Lucius by that time, she tolerated me as well."

"So you weren't friends?" Merlin's pants! Why couldn't she stop these impertinent questions from flying out of her mouth? Her curiosity with the Malfoy family and the dark wizard's past was just too strong to keep suppressed for long, despite the fact that he was probably dangerously close to banishing her from the library.

"Friends enough, I suppose. After Lucius left school the following year, she seemed more compelled to acknowledge my existence but I never really considered us close until after they were married."

Something about this story sounded familiar to Hermione. Had Narcissa been the girl that broke his heart? Had he been in love with her before she married his best friend? Gods, no wonder the wizard wasn't interested in a frizzy-haired know-it-all like her. How could she ever hope to hold a candle to Narcissa Malfoy's beauty and poise?

"How… how did she die?" Hermione asked quietly, attempting to veer away from his suspected feelings but curious nonetheless. The _Daily Prophet_ had reported the late Mrs. Malfoy's death as a tragic accident but the article had been both brief and extremely vague. The rumor in the Order was that Voldemort's inner circle killed her as punishment for Lucius' failure to procure the prophecy the year before but she remembered Snape assuring them that that hadn't been the cause. He had refused to tell them the real reason behind the witch's death, though, which had caused quite a bit of animosity amongst the ranks at the time.

The Potions Master's eyes, dark and impenetrable, focused squarely on hers and for a brief second before he began to speak, she assumed that this would be the question that would land her on her bum outside the library's double doors. Again, for what felt like the millionth time that weekend, she was wrong.

"The Dark Lord killed her himself," he replied, his tone nearly as quiet as her own, "when she refused to tell him Draco's whereabouts."

The strangled gasp that escaped the Head Girl's throat was unavoidable. "She died to protect her son?"

He nodded almost imperceptibly.

"But how... Why..." She shook her head, trying to arrange her tattered thoughts into a semi-sensible order. "The _Prophet_ said it was an accident."

"Since when does the _Prophet_ worry themselves with facts?" he scoffed.

"True," she replied, looking thoughtful. "But surely Lucius has connections at the paper. Why didn't he make sure that they really knew what had happened? Why didn't _you?_ "

"Come now, Miss Granger. You're usually more perceptive than this," Severus admonished, but the witch's confused features didn't change. "How was Lucius supposed to go to the papers and tell them that the Dark Lord killed his wife? He was still a Death Eater, as was I."

She mouthed a silent _Oh_ in response before frowning at the obvious flaw in his explanation. "But the war is over now. Voldemort's dead. Don't you think it's time for the Malfoy name to be redeemed?"

The professor laughed again, but this time it was far from warm. "You've obviously been more affected by this trip than I assumed. Do you honestly think that anyone's opinions of Lucius and Narcissa would change just because they knew the truth? They'd simply say that the Malfoy family finally got what they deserved, just as the Order did if you recall. The wizarding world is not as forgiving as you've deluded yourself into thinking."

"She was a hero," Hermione argued. She remembered Draco's story about his mother keeping him from attending the Death Eater balls and how Snape himself had encouraged the blond wizard not to fight. "Anyone would agree with that if they knew the truth."

"No, if Molly Weasley had died to protect one of her ginger-haired spawns, she'd be a hero, but Narcissa will never be known as anything but the wife of Death Eater, no matter whom she saved. Just as Lucius will always wear the Mark, no matter how much he suffered for it. Evil can never be redeemed in the eyes of the public."

"But if people just knew—"

"No," he interjected, pinning her with hard eyes. "This is not a cause for you to champion, Miss Granger. Buttons and rally signs cannot change people's ingrained assumptions and prejudices. That's a part of life that you'll simply have to accept." There was a finality in his tone that couldn't be denied.

Severus sighed and stared angrily into the fire. How could he be so reckless as to discuss all of this with her? It had been a very long day and this dratted library was turning him into a damned fool. "It's time for you to go back to your room," he muttered tersely. "I believe I've exposed quite enough family secrets for one evening. Must space these things out so that the Gryffindors have something to gossip about for the remainder of the year."

Hermione could not have felt more offended if he had slapped her in the face instead. How could he think she'd betray his trust like that? Or that she'd show such disrespect towards the Malfoy family? Indignation smothered all the other emotions in her head. "I think I deserve a bit more credit than that, Professor. I have lied to my friends repeatedly to keep your secrets, even when I didn't fully know them myself. I never told them about Lucius' condition or the potion despite the significance of both."

He couldn't look at her. He had spoken harshly, had taken his own anger out on her unfairly, and intimated at a lack of discretion which she didn't deserve. He could not, however, apologize again that evening. "Even so. It's late and we have a long day ahead of us."

She crossed her arms over chest stubbornly and stared at his profile. "I know I won't be able to sleep if I go upstairs right now."

Severus glanced over at her and despite his irritation with her refusal, he was amused by her obstinate body language. "And I suppose that's somehow my problem?"

She scowled. "Seeing as I'm here and you have once again annoyed me, I would say so."

He was surprised by the girl's cheek, which was becoming more and more pronounced as the evening wore on. He was starting to think that his earlier estimate had been way off — it looked like he'd be subjected to her total honesty sooner rather than later. "And how, exactly, do you propose I remedy the situation?"

A hundred different responses came readily to mind, none of which Hermione was ready to admit out loud. Her eyes happened to fall on the coffee table again and she grinned. "How about you read to me?"

" _Read to you_?" he echoed, pronouncing each word as if it were a deadly toxin. "Surely you're joking."

In light of his protest, having the wizard read to her — something she would've never seriously considered before — sounded like the perfect solution. It really was his fault she was restless. He had brought her here, he had shaken her whole world up with his talk of apprenticeships and Narcissa Malfoy's heroism, and he had yet again pissed her off. She shrugged her shoulders innocently. "Being read to has always helped me sleep and you _are_ in possession of one of my favorite books."

Severus promptly reached down, grabbed the book, and held it out to her. "I'm sure that you're more than capable of reading it on your own. I know you've had plenty of practice."

Hermione kept her eyes focused on his, her fingers never moving towards the offering. Two hours ago, she couldn't imagine herself ever being brave enough to follow through with Draco's advice. Now, even though it was clear that the envisioned reward wouldn't be forthcoming, she had no intention of backing down. He had opened up to her and she was going to pounce on the opportunity, whether wise or not. He owed her and she was far beyond being intimidated by his caustic personality. If she was going to be working with him for the next two and a half years, best he learn that now.

She grinned again, almost wickedly this time. "But your voice is very _soothing_."

He snorted. "You'll have to try harder than that if you hope to flatter me, Miss Granger. I'm perfectly aware that my voice is one of my more fear-inspiring features and for good reason."

"I've always found it to be quite mesmerizing, personally. Of course, I doubt even Voldemort himself could've sounded menacing while reciting Jane Austen."

" _Mesmerizing_ ," he repeated in a tone of disgust, shaking his head.

Hermione chuckled and pushed the boundaries even further. She was on an adrenaline high at this point and couldn't seem to stop herself from being reckless. "So, that's a yes, then?" she asked cheekily as she slid herself down on the sofa, laying her head on the armrest and her feet near the professor's leg. If not for the warm blush that crawled up her neck and across her cheekbones, she would've appeared completely at ease. She took an unsteady breath and tried to disguise it as a satisfied sigh.

Severus stared at the witch incredulously, amusement warring with irritation. What nerve! Had this been any other student, even one of his Slytherins, he would've berated them for such a move. He couldn't imagine anyone else being audacious enough to even try. Still, for whatever reason, he just couldn't bring himself to reprimand this girl after the evening they had just shared. He frowned at his own ridiculous weakness. "Comfortable?"

"Mmm, very," she replied with a saucy grin.

He shook his head at her antics but leaned down to retrieve the book off the table. He was going to give in to her preposterous request, of course. What other choice did he have?

Hermione's grin widened as she watched him straighten up with the novel in his hands. She couldn't believe how easily she had persuaded the normally cold wizard to do something so docile and intimate. His whole demeanor was so different when he was away from the school. He had been snarky and infuriating, yes, but he had also been more open, honest, and understatedly funny than she would've ever dreamed possible. The more she thought about it, though, the more she understood the difference. He had had to retain a certain level of heavy-handed control while balancing his roles of Death Eater and spy. Even though that hellacious part of his life was behind him now, he couldn't very well discard that seasoned mask without his students walking all over him. His teaching style wasn't that much different from McGonagall's stern no-nonsense approach, after all. He just got more guff about it because he stalked around the castle like an overgrown bat, constantly sneering at hapless children. She wouldn't blow his cover but the act would never truly work on her again.

As Severus settled back against the sofa, he felt the girl's feet graze ever so slightly against his thigh. Not being accustomed to being touched, even accidentally, his attention snapped immediately to the source of the violation. He scowled in disgust. "Your toes are deplorable, woman!"

In one swift, startled movement, Hermione sat up and pulled her knees to her chest, her eyes darting from her feet to the professor and then back again. "They are not! There's nothing wrong with my toes!" She wiggled them in proof, causing the gold flecks in the crimson polish to shimmer in the firelight.

"They're decidedly _Gryffindor_ ," he replied, sneering at the offending digits.

She giggled at both his accusation and the seriousness of his tone. Here she was dressed like some sort of Slytherin tart and he was offended by her toenail polish. Un-bloody-believable.

"What happened to Slytherins being open to a variety of colors?" she asked with a grin, throwing his comment from earlier in the day back in his face.

"That doesn't apply to red and gold."

"So it's just _my_ House colors that you detest?"

"Precisely," he replied, a ghost of a smile playing on his thin lips.

"Well, don't let it ever be said that I can't adapt," she murmured, pulling her wand from the waistband of her pajama bottoms and waving it wordlessly over her toes. The red polish turned a deep emerald green and after a second thought, she added a tiny silver snake on each of her big toes. She grinned at her handiwork then wiggled them again at the wizard. "Better?"

The corners of his mouth twitched. "Much."

She shook her head as she stretched back out on the sofa and slid her wand out of sight. "At least they match my outfit now."

He smirked and let his gaze travel down her relaxed form before turning his focus back to the book in his hands which had fallen open to the place he had marked when he'd been interrupted by the Muggle-born's appearance. "Do I need to start at the beginning?"

"No, sir. Wherever you were at will be fine." She grazed her toes against the fabric of his trousers playfully before closing her eyes in anticipation of the story.

Severus glanced at her again before shaking his head and beginning to read. In a childish attempt to unsettle the girl's irritatingly carefree composure, he employed his silkiest tone. He knew that his voice could inspire something other than fear; he just didn't exercise the second, untoward ability often.

As the professor's velvety voice washed over her, Hermione was vividly reminded of the tone the dark-haired wizard had used in her dreams. Sweet Merlin, the things he had done to her by just uttering a few choice words in that deep timbre — the mere memory made her whole body tingle.

She snuck a peek at her fantasy tormentor from under her thick lashes. He looked almost handsome in the flickering light, the strong line of his jaw accentuated by the movement of his mouth. He wasn't a classically attractive man, she knew. His nose was too large, his cheek bones too sharp, his thin mouth too cruel. But there was an appeal there, in his harsh features and even harsher disposition that captivated her.

It was quite obvious now that her silly crush ran deeper than she had originally thought, but if she didn't get a handle on it she was going to wreck everything. She refused to risk her apprenticeship and the comfortable partnership they had forged tonight by behaving like a lust-driven idiot. Unfortunately for the determined Head Girl, her resolve was going to prove damn near impossible to keep this time.


	14. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

The tale of the five Bennet daughters' love trials had had a place in Hermione's heart since she was very young. Unlike Snape's mother, her own had been adamant about reading her daughter all the classic children's fairy tales — ironic considering the world she now called home — but by the time the self-proclaimed bookworm was old enough to read for herself, her old soul had yearned for something more substantial. She was eight the first time she commandeered her mother's dog-eared copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ and it had quickly become a favorite.

For a long time, the Muggle-born compared herself to the character of Mary, the youngest of the Bennett clan, a plain, well-read, conservative girl that bypassed all the ridiculous escapades that her sisters went through in the pursuit of a man. It wasn't until the Gryffindor witch had experienced a bit of life and her first taste of romance that she realized how important those escapades actually were to a person's happiness. After her unrequited crush on Ron and relatively innocent tryst with Viktor, she knew that no matter how satisfying her future career and interests were they'd be all for naught if she had no one to share them with at the end of the day.

Once that eye-opening revelation had been made, her loyalty had shifted almost immediately from Mary to Elizabeth, a strong, smart woman, who wasn't afraid to speak her mind and who would inevitably fall for someone who seemed to despise her. Yes, that pretty much summed up Hermione Granger. She took solace in the fact that by the book's closure, the lead character, though emotionally weather-beaten, was finally able to find true happiness with the man that she loved.

While she mused about the life lessons hidden throughout Austen's work, Snape dutifully recited from the leather-bound, gold embossed edition in his hands. He had just finished the second chapter, in which Elizabeth first encounters the saturnine Mr. Darcy at the public ball, when Hermione chuckled quietly.

The subsequent pause in the story caused her to open her eyes and she found the wizard staring at her curiously, his expression more intrigued than irritated. She blushed in embarrassment. "Sorry."

"What did you find humorous?" he asked, glancing back at the page as if to locate a joke he'd overlooked.

She shook her head. "It's nothing. You can continue. I didn't mean to interrupt you."

Severus turned to the witch, not willing to be dismissed that easily. This was her silly errand but he wasn't completely at her whim. "You laughed. Surely you found something amusing."

"It's really nothing and I doubt that you'd find it the slightest bit funny," she replied, honest if not a tad deceptive. She really must learn how to control her thoughts and expressions from slipping out at such inopportune moments.

His coal-black eyes narrowed. "Try me."

Hermione sighed in response to the "no arguments accepted" tone he had adopted and let her eyelids droop shut again. The wizard was nothing if not persistent when it came to anything that might embarrass her to reveal. "I was merely thinking that I've read this book at least a half dozen times, yet I've never realized how much you and Mr. Darcy have in common until just now."

The man's brow furrowed as he glanced from the book back to the peaceful-looking woman at his side. He hadn't the slightest clue what she meant. "That's absurd, Miss Granger. I have more in common with that blackguard from Neverland than I do Darcy."

She smirked and opened her eyes again. So he knew _Peter Pan_ too. Not overly surprising considering that that particular author had actually been a Squib from an upper-class pure-blood family — who else would've written about an Animagus looking after children that could fly with fairies? "Oh, you'd make a good Captain Hook, too," she agreed. "That whole abhorrence of all things childlike makes for a compelling similarity, but I still maintain the Mr. Darcy theory."

Severus shook his head, swinging his lank hair. He couldn't see how anything about his presence or personality would equate him with one of the most famous romantic figures in all of Muggle literature. The girl had obviously lost what little good sense she had had. "I believe you've greatly misconstrued the character."

She rolled her eyes. "I told you I've read this book many times. I could probably recite it word for word if I tried."

He laid the open book face down over his knee and turned to look at the girl fully. "I am well aware of your propensity to memorize the most mundane of sources. Regardless, explain how you envision Darcy because something is obviously faulty in your reasoning."

Hermione laughed humorlessly at his challenge. His nettling of her intelligence only served to make her that much more eager to prove her point and she knew he was aware of that. "Well, obviously, from a distance, Mr. Darcy appears dark and brooding," she said, picking her words carefully so as to accurately portray the fictional character. "He doesn't talk much, so Elizabeth — and the reader — is led to believe that he's rude and pretentious, but while veiled by this self-imposed mask of aloofness, he proves, by action rather than word, that he's a man capable of great passion, compassion, devotion, and benevolence. When Elizabeth is faced with the shocking proofs of these qualities, she slowly begins to see that all of the traits she despised him for were nothing more than her own misconceptions. He wasn't dark and brooding but shy and conservative. He was never purposefully rude or pretentious, just merely awkward out of his own comfort zone and angry at being so — feelings that she herself couldn't fully relate to because they weren't a pivotal part of her own character. Once she understood that mistake, there was nothing to do but fall in love with him." She frowned at how eerily similar the story was to her own life at that moment. "I've always believed Mr. Darcy to be a timeless embodiment of the perfect gentleman, just slightly misunderstood."

The lines of bafflement deepened on the professor's brow. "And how, exactly, do you relate any of that overly-worded tripe to me?"

She grinned, knowing that he couldn't have found fault in her description or he would've set her to task for it. She reveled in the feeling of justified victory for a moment before realizing her mistake. Being satisfied with her character analysis, obviously his next question would be the comparison she had made between Darcy and himself, which would prove a bit more awkward to explain. Bugger.

Figuring it was too late to start backpedaling now, she propped herself up on her elbows and looked him straight in the eye. "I think you seriously underestimate yourself, Professor. Every word I just used to describe Mr. Darcy could easily portray you as well."

"You can't possibly expect me to believe that you see me as an _embodiment of the perfect gentleman_. Not even a Confundus Charm could make me that delusional."

She giggled and shook her head. "Okay, I'll admit that that's taking it a bit far but the rest is true enough."

Severus stared at the woman for a long moment. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that it would be teetering on inappropriate to question her any further on this subject. He knew this but couldn't stop himself from asking, "Such as?" anyway and he hated himself for it.

"Are you sure you want to know?"

 _No!_ his conscience shouted, urging the wizard to retreat from the conversation as quickly as humanly possible. The silly witch was comparing him to an 18th century romance novel. She was delusional and he could not, should not, encourage such things. But the reckless growl that emanated from somewhere deep inside his chest and had claimed control over most of his actions that weekend forced its way to the foreground once again. "Consider me intrigued."

The Head Girl grinned at his begrudging curiosity. Though terribly awkward, she had to admit there was a bit of a thrill in telling him how she interpreted his personality. He was a man that few could claim to understand. An enigma if there ever was one. And while she didn't presume to understand even a quarter of his irascible disposition or cloaked motives, she had been paying inordinately close attention for the past few months. She just hoped she'd be able to explain the comparison properly. "Well, let's see. Like Darcy, your reticence is viewed by most people as rudeness and your obvious dislike of general stupidity comes across as being cold or even cruel at times. In fact, I think you purposely don that dark and brooding ex-Death Eater persona of yours just so you don't have to deal with the majority of common idiocies. You scare people away before they get too close to annoy you." She paused and flashed him a cheeky little grin. "Am I right so far?"

Despite himself, Snape nodded curtly at her surprisingly accurate insight. There was little that he hated more than stupidity and he'd spent a lifetime learning how to deflect it. Sure most people feared his sneering wrath and steered clear of him but at least he wasn't saddled with moronic brats clamoring for his approval and attention.

"But under all of that," she continued, "you personify the ideals of compassion, benevolence, and devotion every bit as much as Austen described. The bad part about scaring off the world is that no one can ever get near enough to appreciate the man beneath all the masks." She scrunched up her nose. "I guess I'm just more stubborn than most in that respect."

A barrage of indistinguishable emotions flashed through his obsidian eyes as the rest of his features remained coolly indifferent. His voice was hollow when it finally came. "You have no idea what kind of man I am, Miss Granger. There are masks, yes, but not all of them are misleading and all have been justly earned. You can't imagine the things I've seen in my lifetime. The things I've done..."

"I may not know much about your past but I'm not completely naïve," she argued boldly, unwilling to let him derail her. "I know you became a Death Eater to begin with because you wanted to. I realize that at some point you had to have embraced, and likely enjoyed, all that it meant to follow Voldemort. But I also know that something at some point pulled on your conscience enough that you saw the error in your choices and you sought to redeem them. I don't need to know your reasons to understand the man you are now or be able to appreciate the goodness in your character. You risked your life countless times for the Order, for the side of the Light, even for me and my friends, despite the fact that you loathed us. You believed in your Slytherin students, when no one else gave them a second thought, and protected them and your godson from an inherited fate even though either side could've easily interpreted that act as treason. How else would you define benevolence and devotion?" she asked, not pausing to allow him to answer what was meant as a rhetorical question. "You poured your soul into creating a potion to save a friend from an excruciating and inevitable death, which will also soon rid countless strangers of the same crippling affliction. I've never witnessed a more profound example of passionate compassion." She smiled brightly and wiggled her toes against his leg again. "Face it, Professor. You're a modern day Mr. Darcy."

Severus was at a loss for words. Her opinion of his character was obviously one-sided and only partially informed but it still caused an unusual constriction of his chest. No one had ever defended him so staunchly, had ever deemed his actions over the years as anything short of requisite, manipulative, or self-serving, with the possible exception of Albus, who was the only person to ever truly know his motives. Even Severus himself believed that every lash he had received, every bout of Cruciatus, and every unspeakable act he had been forced to partake in while in service of "The Greater Good" was fully deserved punishment for the grave mistakes of his past, mistakes that could never be fully absolved. There was far too much tarnish on his soul for him to ever be misconstrued as a hero — until now. Until this petite little witch, wise beyond her years, focused her uncanny insight on him.

He swallowed thickly as he tried to formulate some response that would express both his appreciation and his denial of the girl's praise. She knew nothing of his past and therefore couldn't even begin to fully understand why he had become the bitter shell that he was, but he knew the stubborn witch well enough to know that nothing short of a completely soul-bearing explanation — which was completely out of the question — would cause her to rethink her opinions. Without a decent alternative, he blurted out the first question that came to his disconcertingly bare mind. "What character do you identify with, Miss Granger?"

To say Hermione was thrown by his reply would be an overstatement. It was a logical question to ask but in light of what she had just professed, it certainly wasn't the type of response she'd been expecting or hoping for. He turned to her with a quirked eyebrow when she didn't respond right away.

"Elizabeth, of course," she replied, staring down the strange intensity raging in his eyes.

"Of course," he repeated, turning back to the book in his lap. Without further discussion, he delved into the story once again, picking up precisely where he'd left off, as if their last exchange hadn't taken place at all. The only perceivable difference was that the velveteen quality of his voice seemed threadbare now, exposing the heavy steel underneath.

Hermione settled back against the armrest, closed her eyes, and let the change wash over her. Appropriate or not, she was proud of herself, and when it came down to it, her praise had been nothing short of what the wizard deserved. She knew people didn't normally go out of their way to acknowledge the sacrifices he had made but she refused to be one of them any longer. Two days ago, she would've expected him to hex her for taking such liberties, or at the very least deduct enough house points to guarantee Slytherin's name on the House Cup this year, but now, after all that had transpired between them in the last forty-eight hours, Snape's silent acceptance seemed almost commonplace in comparison.

* * *

Purely for the sake of mental distraction, Severus read for more than an hour, only stopping because his throat eventually became too dry to continue. He quietly closed the book and placed it back on the coffee table before glancing over at his companion, who hadn't made a single noise since their previous, unsettling discussion. The curly-haired witch appeared to be fast asleep; her eyes were closed and her breathing was slow and rhythmic beneath the faded Slytherin crest on her shirt.

The reclusive wizard hadn't watched another person sleep — outside of the occasional, foolish student who dared to doze in his classroom — in a very long time and he couldn't remember ever seeing anything quite so peaceful. He was reminded of the Petrified little girl who had stared sightlessly up from a cot in the hospital wing nearly five years ago and searched the counterpart's features for any resemblances. Yes, the two images in his head were of the same witch, but it was obvious just how much both nature and experience had changed Hermione Granger. She was not the bossy little know-it-all that had irritated him endlessly in class and had recklessly endangered herself countless times for a cause she was too young and naïve to grasp. This was a woman who had braved the darkest pits of evil to defend what she knew was right and instead of becoming hard and bitter like him or suspicious of the world like Potter, had come out on the other side physically unscathed, more compassionate than a thousand do-gooders, and quietly confident in her own skin. She was really a sight to behold and Severus found himself drinking in her pure radiating light like it was a beacon calling to him from a turbulent sea, offering him safe harbors when he was surrounded by the imminent threats of darkness.

He simply stared at his newly appointed apprentice for several minutes before realizing that not only was his focus highly inappropriate but that he needed to wake the girl and send her back to her rooms. Committing the peaceful sight to memory one last time, he called to her in the softest voice he could muster, so as not to startle her. "Miss Granger?"

"Yes?" Hermione replied immediately. She was fully awake and had been the whole time. When he had first stopped reading, she had peered out inconspicuously from under her lashes to find him studying her. It's not as if he had never looked her over before but those critiques had always made her feel like some slimy specimen under a microscope — like he was cataloging all of her flaws. In comparison, the look in his eyes as he watched her "sleep" had been incredible. The normally hard, onyx orbs had somehow liquefied and the magmatic pools had left a scorching trail across her skin as they traversed her features. She had no idea what to make of his attention. Her hopes of him having feelings for her had been dashed with the news of her apprenticeship but his molten scrutiny wasn't normal for an indifferent master/pupil relationship. Perhaps, at the very least, he was attracted to her in an abstract sort of way. They could always work on the rest but whether or not he could see her as a woman worth noticing instead of just a child was a make-or-break deal.

"You're awake?" Snape asked, surprise in his overtaxed voice.

She opened her eyes and bestowed the wizard with a warm open smile. "Yes. I'm afraid the story was more captivating than I thought it would be."

"Then it obviously failed its purpose." He frowned and rubbed his neck. "And I'm afraid that my throat is insisting that I stop for the evening."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to continue until you were in pain. You could've stopped long ago."

He shook his head dismissively. "It's not your fault. I was caught up in the story as well."

She smiled again. "Well, thank you for reading as much as you did. You covered some of my favorite parts."

He muttered something unintelligible in response before standing up and swiftly walking towards the far end of the library. Hermione scowled as she watched the man disappear into the shadows. Damn Slytherins. Was it really that hard to say, "Hey, I'll be right back," or at least _something_ before stalking away from people?

"Would you care for something to drink?" he called to her from somewhere in the darkness.

She grinned and chastised herself for cursing him. "Yes, sir. Thank you."

The distinct sound of clinking glass issued from the shadows before he emerged with a bottle of wine in one hand and two crystal goblets in the other. He set the swag on the coffee table and reclaimed his place beside her feet, apparently less offended by that idea than he had previously been.

"I'm afraid that this was the mildest thing I could find in Lucius' liquor cabinet," he said, referring to the wine as he uncorked the bottle with a subtle flick of his wand. "I didn't want to summon an elf at this late hour and assumed that you'd prefer this to cognac or Firewhisky."

"Yes. It's fine." She sat up and tucked a foot underneath her, totally enthralled by the idea of sharing a private bottle of wine with the dark-haired wizard.

The Potions Master poured two glasses of the dark alcohol and went to hand one to her. When he turned, she realized just how close they were sitting but made no attempt to remedy the situation as she accepted the goblet from his hand. Their fingers brushed during the exchange and Hermione felt another tingle shoot down her spine. She smiled shyly. "Thank you."

Severus nodded in response before sitting back against the cushions and sipping his wine, allowing the chilled beverage to soothe his agitated throat. He let out a contented sigh. When he inhaled, however, he caught a hint of jasmine in the air again and began to ponder whether it stemmed from an herbal shampoo or some sort of floral perfume. He glanced at the witch and watched as she took a cautious sip from her glass then smile appreciatively.

"So, what are your favorite parts of _Pride and Prejudice_ , Miss Granger?" he asked to distract himself from the inappropriate thoughts swimming in his head. Imagine, wondering about the origins of her scent! It was obviously far too dangerous to let his mind wander this evening without a safe diversion.

Hermione smiled and propped her head up with her arm on the back of the sofa. "All the stereotypical girly parts, I suppose. The dances, the awkward interactions between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, his declaration and her resulting confrontation."

"Hmm, you're right," he replied with a slight grimace. "Stereotypical."

"And your favorites are any better?" she challenged playfully.

The wizard sipped his wine again before answering. "Not necessarily better, but certainly less _girly_. I've always been intrigued by the dynamics of the Bennet family in general, the parents especially. The mother is a bit of a nut, a hypochondriac who cannot make up her mind whether she wants her daughters to leave the nest or not, and the father just seems completely overwhelmed by the amount of estrogen in the house." He smirked. He had felt the same way the few times over the years when more females had been sorted into Slytherin than males. The girls were, without fail, always more challenging. "But my favorite, I believe, would have to be when Miss Bennet finds out about Darcy's part in her sister's marriage to Wickham. After she received Darcy's letter, that was the point in which she realized just how badly she had misjudged him. That was the moment when both her _pride_ and her _prejudices_ came crashing down around her ears."

"Poor Elizabeth. I know just how she felt. I've been experiencing that same feeling a lot lately," she replied, thinking of all that she had learned this weekend about the Malfoy family, and even Snape, and how she had grossly misjudged them in the past.

He turned to look at her, his eyes glinting in the firelight. He knew what she must be referring to — several of her preconceived notions had been smashed to bits that weekend — but he also had had more than his fair share of assumptions proven false, both recently and over the course of his miserable life. "We've all made those errors at one time or another. It's human nature, after all."

Hermione was suddenly consumed by the proximity of the wizard, by the sweet warmth of his breath, by the inflection in his tone, and was swept up by the urgent desire to close the minute distance between them and press her lips to his.

Fighting off that horrid urge, she quickly formulated a slightly less dangerous course of action. "I'd like to change my answer," she announced with a crooked grin, "or modify it at least, in light of your response."

He smirked and swirled the burgundy liquid around in his glass. "It's not a competition. There's no need to try and outdo me. You've already clearly demonstrated your adulation of the book — of any and all books."

Of course there was no way she was going to let him get out of things that easy. "I'm not trying to beat you. I simply want a chance to narrow down my favorite part. My first answer was rather vague compared to yours."

She brought her wineglass to her lips and waited for his curiosity to rear its head. She didn't have to wait long. He took a sip from his own goblet before gesturing with his hand for her to proceed. "By all means, then."

Hermione smiled, took a fortifying gulp of Bordeaux, and sat the glass on the table. "Well, I still love all those other parts, but your comment about crumpling prejudices made me think about my absolute favorite. I can't imagine a better resolution to all the drama throughout the book than when both Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy stopped struggling _so_ hard and finally realized how the other one felt." Her words were strategically aimed directly at the man to her left but were concealed just enough that she could claim innocence if he reacted badly. Yes, she was supposed to be getting over this infatuation with Snape. She was supposed to be fully focused on her new position as his apprentice and leaving all other feelings to wilt from malnourishment. But there in that moment, sitting so close in the firelight, the wine just barely blurring the stark lines of decorum, she didn't care. The effort of denial had already become tiresome.

Severus' dark eyes immediately snapped to the girl as he tried to untangle the meaning from her words. Her description of the story's climax was accurate, of course, but he wasn't entirely sure that that was all she was alluding to. Something in her tone gave him the impression she was talking about much more than two fictitious characters in a hundred year old book. She flashed him a private sort of smile and at that moment he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was referring to something else entirely.

In an instant, the past few weeks made perfect sense. The Head Girl's recent odd behavior — her uncharacteristic shyness and conversely bold actions, her willingness to play along with his charade without knowing its motives — was suddenly illuminated. However incomprehensible, however inappropriate, she had apparently formed some sort of attachment to him. How was it possible that this girl, this woman, could see past his defenses and find anything remotely redeemable?

His head spun as he stared into her tender gaze and he wasn't entirely sure how to proceed. The responsible decision would be to shut down her ridiculous notions right then and there with swift and caustic decisiveness, but he couldn't seem to form the words. Like a moth dancing ever so closely to a flame, he couldn't resist the dangerous and hypnotic lure of the heat.

"An interesting analogy," he remarked quietly, still focused on the flecks of gold hidden within the melted chocolate of her eyes. "But I've always found it hard to believe that someone like the illustrious Miss Bennet could fall for someone like Darcy and vice versa. They seem to be so different and come from such opposite circumstances. How could they ever find compatibility in such a situation?" He shook his head. "It's surely the type of relationship that only exists in fiction."

Hermione's heart soared. Not only did it seem that had he understood her veiled intimation, but he was actually responding to its real meaning in his own covert manner. Surely that meant that he felt at least something for her, something more than teacherly affection — not that Snape could be accused of ever feeling that particular emotion before.

Stalling for more time to contemplate her response, she leaned down and reclaimed her wineglass. The professor watched her with a slightly raised eyebrow but didn't comment. She flashed him another smile before sitting back and taking a sip.

"I think you're underestimating their similarities," she finally replied. "They may come from radically different backgrounds but they share a lot in common as well. Plus whatever characteristics one of them lacks, the other undoubtedly makes up for. I believe they're well suited for each other." Another swig of liquid courage. "Besides, no matter how hard you try, you can't help what the heart wants. That's a universal problem, with no respect for fiction or nonfiction, magical or Muggle. Wouldn't you agree?"

He nodded ever-so-softly, his eyes never leaving her face. Hermione felt herself blush but continued with their oddly flirtatious game anyway. "Most of the greatest love stories ever told, both real and contrived, involve impractical unions. It's always been more courageous to follow your heart, regardless of the consequences, than to ignore its true desires." Well, she was truly in the thick of things now. No backing out. She briefly wondered if Draco would be proud.

Snape turned to stare pensively into the crackling fire at her words. "Even when that choice is completely inappropriate?"

His question came out so low that she was sure she hadn't been meant to hear it. But hear it she did and it made her heart thud painfully in her chest. "Inappropriate in whose eyes?"

"Society's. Everyone's," he muttered, a hard, indistinguishable edge to his tone.

She shook her head fiercely, the lines blurring as to what, precisely, she was trying to defend — Elizabeth and Darcy's relationship or her and Snape's. "No one has the right to make that judgment. Just like for Elizabeth and Darcy, the heart transcends all prejudices. In order for them to be happy, they had to stop worrying about what their families thought, about what society as a whole would think, and focus solely on what the other was thinking." She smiled at her ability to weave this long overdue confrontation around the pretense of a Muggle romance novel. "And it all worked out pretty well for them."

Severus turned back to the fearless witch and was able to clearly see the Gryffindor lioness that had fought beside her friends in one of the fiercest battles in history. She would stand up for what she believed in come hell or high water, regardless of the dangers — a luxury that the former spy had never been given. He had been following the orders of one master or another his entire adult life and those orders rarely had anything to do with his own desires. And for some unfathomable reason, her reckless, misaligned determination seemed to be focused squarely on him. It was quite a heady feeling, to say the least.

Hermione watched the inner turmoil play out in his calculating gaze. She couldn't believe the strange twists and turns their conversation had taken that evening. When she had entered the library, she had been elated by the thought that perhaps the elusive professor actually did have feelings for her as Draco and Remus had suggested. Those hopes, however, had crumbled and new ones simultaneously built up with the revelation of her apprenticeship. But now, through the oddest imaginable discussion, it seemed that maybe the first daydream hadn't been so outlandish after all.

She unconsciously drew her lip between her teeth as she deliberated her next move. She wondered how he'd respond if she were to suddenly straddle his lap, thread her fingers through his hair, and kiss him with enough passion to make him forget that there was anyone else in the world beside the two of them.

Meanwhile, Severus was on the verge of furthering their little discussion when he caught her nervous gesture. For years he had watched the girl worry her bottom lip whenever she was thinking particularly hard about something, and tonight, he was apparently the object. Instead of that idea being flattering, it only served to remind him that, despite everything, she was still his student and therefore unequivocally off-limits. It was bad enough for him to entertain such notions for a witch twenty years his junior, but it was downright appalling for him to lust after a student.

There had been a few disturbed girls over the years that had fancied themselves in love with their coldhearted Potions professor or some such nonsense — things like that were almost to be expected when you were the youngest male teacher in a boarding school full of hormonal adolescents — but he had never paid them a second thought, outside of deducting points for their lewd behavior. Not once had he harbored inappropriate thoughts about one of his charges before this year, before this bold little know-it-all stood up to him and made it known that she wasn't someone he could bully.

This witch was so different from all the moronic children he had taught, different than any woman he had ever encountered, and truth be told, he had thought more about her than was strictly necessary ever since the previous summer. He supposed it was a bit cliché that he had realized his admiration for the petite Muggle-born as he had watched her fight for her life — and his freedom, in effect — but that's how it had happened.

His assigned task during the final battle had been to provide cover for the two lesser members of Potter's coven while Dumbledore assisted the famed hero himself. While picking off his fellow Death Eaters from a covert distance, Severus had watched as Granger tore through his former comrades with borderline Dark curses that she had mastered gods knew where. She had been impressive, brilliant, even _dazzling_ , if he were to allow himself to use such a word. It had been at that moment, when the witch, drenched in sweat and blood and muck, tirelessly forged on, felling men twice her size, that he knew, should they all make it out alive, he would find a way to repay her bravery.

Once the smoke had cleared, the letters began to arrive, requesting recommendations on her behalf. Despite his often questionable teaching methods, the girl wanted to follow in his footsteps and join his profession. He had been surprised at that revelation but it provided him with the solution he had been struggling with. He might not have much to offer such a promising young star but he did have the means to give her the very best training possible. He was sure of it.

That decision had led him to the admittedly ridiculous farce he had engaged the witch in for the past two months. The problem was, somewhere amidst all the threats, arguments, and snarky comments, she had managed to burrow past his defenses. He couldn't be sure if it had been her stubbornness over lemongrass preparations or the cheeky boldness it took to throw his own Potions articles at him, but at some point, he had developed a soft spot for one Hermione Granger — the first vulnerability he had harbored in nearly twenty years.

And here she was, practically offering herself to him, like a dream that he couldn't quite wake from. The bad part — the downright disastrous part — was that it more resembled a nightmare than a fantasy.

If Severus was honest with himself, he wanted nothing more at that moment than to pull the woman into his arms and suck that repeatedly abused lip between his own but he couldn't allow himself that liberty. He had his reputation — what tiny scrap of it that was left — to think about. More importantly, he had hers to consider. He couldn't let the brightest witch of the upcoming generation sully her name by becoming involved with the likes of him. She deserved far greater than anything he could ever hope to offer in that type of intimate arena.

Swallowing thickly, he turned back to the fire. To save her from herself, he knew he would have to rebuke her advances but he also knew he didn't have the heart to resort to the cruelty he had relied on for years. This witch was different and therefore deserved a different approach. "I think it's time for you to return to your rooms," he suggested quietly, regret so heavy on his tongue he thought it might choke him. "Morning will be upon us shortly and our trip to the Ministry will be grueling enough without the added burden of exhaustion."

And just like that, the Head Girl's ever-growing bubble of hope burst into a thousand sharp-edged pieces. She frowned at his profile, searching for some way to turn the tide back in her favor but found none. She had given the attempt everything that she possessed and still had been found wanting. With a defeated sigh, she stood from the sofa and stretched her tightly-coiled muscles. "Yes, sir. Whatever you say," she replied, trying and failing miserably to keep the drowning weight of disappointment out of her voice. "Good night."

He didn't even so much as glance in her direction.

Feeling cast aside and utterly rejected, Hermione slowly made her way to the door, hoping that at any moment the wizard would stop her. When no such miracle occurred, Draco's earlier words rushed through her head again, reminding her that she'd have to be the one to make the first, second, and possibly even third move. Though she had been defeated, the game itself was still in play. She was certain now there was some sort of feeling for her, buried deep in his fettered heart. It was her task, yet again, to bring it to light.

Stopping silently amongst the shadows, she closed her eyes and tried to channel some of the great women of literature, tried to imagine what some of her favorite heroines would've done had they been in her shoes, faced off against such an obstinate opponent. When that failed to produce anything of use, she tried to envision how a Slytherin might have responded to the situation and the answer came in one sudden, glorious, ridiculous stroke of inspiration. Grinning deviously, she spun around.

The wizard was still sitting on the sofa, turned towards the hearth, but was now cradling his head in his hands. He raked his long fingers threw his hair and the obvious distress in his countenance nearly made her forfeit her plans and leave the man in peace. She would have, too, had she not suspected that he was hoping for a lifeline just as badly as she was.

Steeling her nerves, Hermione cleared her throat and called out to him. "Professor?"

Snape glanced up quickly, startled that the girl was still in the room. He immediately dropped his hands and straightened his posture, his face smoothly inscrutable once again as the mask slid into place. "Yes?"

"Will you walk me to my room?"

It seemed to take a moment for her question to sink in. When it did, he frowned. "Surely you can locate the guest quarters on your own. This house is not that large."

She walked back into the circle of firelight so that he could see her imploring smile and poured it on thick. "Of course, but it's dark."

Hermione was well aware that this was a blatantly thin excuse — she was a witch, after all, and knew at least half a dozen spells that would alleviate that problem in an instant — but with her simple request, she was effectively placing the proverbial ball in his court. She wasn't going to force him into doing anything that he adamant against but she also couldn't leave without trying. It was now up to him whether or not he wanted anything further to happen. If he turned her down again, then she would take the hint and let the matter drop once and for all. After years of chasing Ron, she had developed too much self-respect to continually proposition a man that denied his interest. For her, his reply would signify either the beginning or the premature end of their story. She held her breath in anticipation.

Severus studied the witch for a moment, taking note of the determination spiking in her eyes, and he recognized her challenge for what it was. She had gone out on a limb with her cloaked declaration and he had brutally cut it down in self-sacrifice. Instead of retreating, the brazen witch had only climber higher. Obviously the proper response would be to refuse, but surely it couldn't hurt to simply escort her upstairs, could it? He was her official chaperone for the weekend, after all, and did have his charge's welfare to consider. The manor was quite dark at night and could be disorienting. It also belonged to a former Death Eater… he was grasping at straws and he knew it.

Conflicted between the battling demands in his head, he sighed heavily before standing up and smoothing out the wrinkles in his robes. "Very well, Miss Granger. If you insist on portraying the damsel in distress, then I suppose I am forced to play along."

Hermione's smile intensified dramatically as her heart began to pound again. "My knight in shining armor."

He laughed derisively as he made his way towards her. "You have quite a knack for misconstruing characters. I'm far more likely to be the fire-breathing dragon hell-bent on your destruction than a fearless knight sent to rescue you, you silly girl."

She giggled and Severus shook his head before leading her out of the library, flicking his wand behind his back to douse the flames in the hearth and send the novel, wine, and goblets back to their rightful places. As he intended, once the double doors closed after them, the room appeared as if their clandestine meeting had never taken place.

A few moments after the pair's departure, however, a vague shimmer in one of the darkened corners dissolved to reveal a grinning, blond-haired wizard sitting on the floor, his back against the wall. "Way to go, Granger," Draco whispered in approval before standing up, stretching, and heading towards a hidden exit at the far end of the room. "I wasn't sure if you had it in you."


	15. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

As soon as the library doors shut behind the pair, casting them into the shadows beyond, Severus's conscience began to assault him. The witch had all but admitted to being infatuated with him and he had done absolutely nothing of consequence to dissuade her misplaced feelings. Instead he was actively playing along with this silly masquerade, knowing full well she was plotting something that would surely be his undoing. He wasn't being chivalrous; he was being a damned fool and a lecherous one at that. With an internal growl, he stalked off through the darkness, leaving the girl behind and not even bothering to light his wand.

Hermione chased after Snape, her short legs still no match for his long strides. She wasn't the least surprised by his sudden change in disposition. The man was nearly always irritated about something. It was more off-putting for him to be in a good mood than a bad one. But she was annoyed that he couldn't be bothered to slow down. This whole prospect of accompanying her didn't work if he was constantly ten steps ahead of her.

She finally managed to catch up to the errant wizard at the base of the darkened staircase. She slipped her hand around his black-clad upper arm, intent on forcing him to stay by her side. He glanced down at her questioningly at the touch but said nothing as he bent his elbow to tuck her fingers into the crook. They started up the steps arm in arm.

As they climbed, the Gryffindor contemplated the next phase of her thus far non-existent plan. If she knew the man's character at all, she knew that just getting him up to her room would not be enough. More than likely, he'd simply bid her good night from the doorway and be gone, in flourish of robes, if left to his own devices. The fates had conspired to bring them together that evening and through the course of their meandering conversation, allusions had been made. If they parted without some form of de facto profession, the momentum of the night's events would be irrevocably lost. The particular variables of the evening would be impossible to recreate.

"Which room is yours?" Severus asked, barely above a whisper, when they reached the forked hallway at the top of the stairs. The last thing he needed right now was for the manor's other inhabitants to hear them and come to investigate. Lucius would never let him hear the end of it if the pure-blood were to find out that he was escorting female students to their bedchambers in the middle of the night, especially after the man's attempt at a confrontation earlier that day.

The witch pointed into the shadows straight ahead. "The last one on the left." He nodded and they continued in the prescribed direction in silence. They reached her door more quickly than either of them were entirely prepared for. The tension in the air was as thick as Hogwarts' pea soup.

Still unsure of her next move, Hermione dropped the professor's arm and walked inside, extracting her wand to light the wall sconces on either side of the bed and bathe the room in golden candlelight. Her hands trembled slightly as she impulsively straightened the bed covers that had been left haphazard in her earlier haste. She couldn't bring herself to look at him just yet.

"Good evening, Miss Granger. I hope you sleep well," Snape called quietly from the threshold, just as she had anticipated. To her ears, his tone sounded restrained as if he was fighting with himself to keep from entering behind her but that could've just been wishful thinking on her part.

Her ability to think on her feet was the only thing that kept the Head Girl from letting him go without a fight. Finishing with the blankets, she turned towards him with a playful frown. "Aren't you going to tuck me in?" she asked, like this was the most normal thing in the world to request of a teacher.

Snape, on the other hand, was suddenly staring at her like a Swedish Short-Snout had taken roost upon her head. "Excuse me?"

"Aren't you going to tuck me into bed before you leave?" she repeated, marveling at how calm her voice sounded given the wobbly state of her knees. She had no idea where she was going with this latest diversion. She had been smoothing down the duvet when he motioned to leave and it had been the first thing to come mind to stop him. She didn't like the childish image the question evoked but she could probably make the whole idea work if he'd go along with it.

"I hardly think that that would be..." He cleared his throat. "Appropriate."

Hermione stuck out her lip in what she intended to be an innocent-looking pout then quickly pulled it back in. She was trying to _avoid_ looking immature here. "The whole goal is for me to be well rested for the Ministry trip tomorrow, isn't it? I mean, that is why you sent me to bed, correct?"

Severus scowled, aware that he was being set up but unsure as to how to prevent it. He had insisted she go back to her room because his rapidly fraying self-control could not handle any other course of action. But that decision had left him here, in a worse predicament than the previous one. His mouth was a tight line when he replied, "That was the general idea."

She grinned broadly. "Good. Then being tucked in, all nice and cozy, would certainly help facilitate that."

Purposely ignoring the his demonstrative yet non-verbal refusal, she walked over to the bed, laid her wand next to the facedown snapshots on the table and sat down, dangling her legs over the side of the mattress. She then looked up expectantly at the Potions Master, still trying to gauge his reaction. Was she winning him over or just embarrassing herself? How the hell was she ever going to go back to being his pupil after this?

Severus stared at the curly-haired witch incredulously. When had the insufferable little know-it-all that had been haunting his classroom for years transformed into this dangerously enticing vixen determined to break him? He scowled again and glanced down the darkened hallway behind him.

"Looking for an escape route?"

His focus returned to his now-smirking apprentice. "Actually, I was thinking of going to fetch my godson to carry out this proposed chore of yours." No, the former spy was not one to forget things easily. He may have been momentarily distracted by their conversation downstairs, but he hadn't forgotten the suspicious camaraderie between the Head Boy and Girl or the fact that she was wearing the blond's pajamas. And at this point, any excuse to get him out of this ridiculous mess was a desirable one.

Hermione's brow wrinkled, suddenly confused. "Draco?"

"Yes, Draco," he replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest, more genuinely leery now. Her wide-eyed act of innocence wasn't nearly as convincing as she thought it was. "Your choice of sleepwear suggests that the relationship between the two of you is far more conducive to this type of intimate setting than our own."

Her mouth dropped open in surprise. "You think... he and I... together? Have you been living under a rock for the past seven years?"

"You've obviously gotten past your aversions to each other," he argued, ignoring her impudence and pointing to the evidence on her person.

She looked down at her clothing then back at him. How was it possible that he could think she had eyes for any other wizard after everything they had discussed tonight? She had basically hit him over the head with her interest and he had still jumped to a completely inaccurate conclusion. Good Grindylows, men were thickheaded! "I assure you there is _nothing_ going on between Draco and I. Not now, not ever. We can barely be considered friends at this point."

"And your sleeping attire?" he asked, unconvinced.

Hermione sighed in exasperation, feeling like she was arguing with Harry instead of someone twice the boy's age. "He loaned me something to wear so that my clothes could be cleaned for tomorrow. I didn't exactly come prepared to stay overnight. Though I'm sure humiliation was on his list of reasons as well, dressing me up like this." She waved her arms at herself.

"Oh," the professor replied, looking surprised. "I just assumed."

"Yes, well, I'm sure Draco would find your assumption highly entertaining. I, on the other hand, feel rather offended that you think I could be so easily persuaded." Just because she was dressed like a tart did not mean she was one, outside of her attempts this evening to seduce her teacher, of course.

His dark eyes narrowed. "Women are fickle creatures, Miss Granger. You wouldn't be the first one to be swayed by a handsome wizard."

As it often did when dealing with this particularly vexing man, indignation warred with empathy in her mind. Despite her annoyance at such an erroneous statement, it made it all too obvious how much he must have cared for Narcissa before Lucius swept her off her feet. One more sad piece clicked into place in the increasingly intricate puzzle she was up against.

"I thought you knew me better than that," she said with a sigh, attempting to defuse the amalgam of emotions at play. "I've never done anything without thinking it through first." He looked vaguely uncomfortable, but whether it was because of his error in judgment or the implications of her reply, she couldn't be sure.

Severus felt like a heel. He had suspected her of consorting with his godson and was, for reasons he didn't want to analyze currently, thankful to be wrong. But he had accused and insulted the girl again and she had been innocent again. It was starting to become an uncomfortable trend. With an inner sigh, he realized that he'd have to try and make amends. He had been resistant to apologize again to her earlier but what else could he do?

"I am sorry," he began hesitantly, a slight frown weighing down his words. "You have indeed proved yourself to be more steadfast than the vast majority of your sex. It was unfair of me to judge you in that fashion."

It was really too bad for him that Hermione wasn't one to be that easily distracted. Receiving an apology from Snape, no matter how stiltedly delivered, would normally be a huge victory, but tonight she had bigger fish to fry. "You know," she said with a grin, "being tucked in would really help to convince me of your sincerity."

The man didn't move, blink, or even visibly breathe for several moments as he processed this, but once he had, his dark eyes glinted animatedly at her. "You possess more Slytherin traits than I'm entirely comfortable with, Miss Granger."

She beamed, not because she particularly relished being compared to a Slytherin but because there was no higher praise the House-partial man in front of her could possibly dole out. "Coming from you, I'll presume that that's a compliment."

"I suppose you could take it that way," he replied. "I wonder, though, did the Sorting Hat deliberate on you?" If he kept her talking, perhaps he would be able to leave the room with his dignity intact.

Hermione nodded, unsure where his questioning was headed but guessed it was mostly a stalling tactic. "Since I'm Muggle-born, Slytherin wasn't an option but it was a toss-up between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw."

He snorted. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me in the least."

"And it didn't debate over you?" she challenged. She had long since suspected that everyone had at least a bit of each House's signature traits in them. No one was solely one thing all of the time. She could still remember Draco being sorted into Slytherin almost as soon as the hat touched the first golden-blond hair on his head but he was also smart and in an obverse way, brave. The man in front of her was no different. "I'd be willing to bet that Godric's old hat saw some Ravenclaw characteristics in you and probably some Gryffindor as well, though I don't know if that part came later." She grinned knowingly when he scowled but didn't deny her speculation. "Thought so."

"Yes, well," he snapped, irritated with how easily this little wisp of a girl had been able to read him all night. Had his masks really become that transparent? He had been a double spy, for the love of Circe! "As enlightening as this evening has been..." He took out his pocket-watch and grimaced at the display. "It really is getting late." Slipping the silver timepiece back into his robes, he turned towards the open door, hoping that a hasty departure would distract the stubborn witch from her earlier request.

Hermione, of course, didn't fall for it. "Aren't you forgetting something, Professor?" she called, causing him to pause and begrudgingly glance over his shoulder at her. She smiled and patted the blankets invitingly. "It won't take but a minute," she promised. "Virtually painless."

Severus sighed and peered longingly back down the hallway. How was he supposed to tell her no when every fiber of his being wanted nothing more than to give in? He turned around to face the persistent woman. Her tactics reminded him of her earlier years at Hogwarts, when she had frantically waved her hand to answer every question he posed, even after he began to purposely ignore her. His calculated ridicule and menacing demeanor had eventually broken her of that habit. Perhaps it would work in this case as well. At this point, he really had nothing to lose.

Affixing his most intimidating sneer, he stalked towards the bed and glared down at her. "You are an insufferable, impertinent, annoyingly single-minded nuisance!"

Hermione blinked up at the wizard and knew his heart wasn't in the words he was trying to spew at her. The fact that Severus Snape wasn't able to insult her with any passable illusion of credibility proved, more than any other measure could, that she was on the right path. She was wearing him down and under his refusals, he wanted her to. She grinned toothily. "Yes, you've been telling me that for a while now. You might want to get some new material."

His sneer faded at her flippancy and he sighed in defeat. He had definitely lost his edge. "Lie down, Miss Granger."

She flashed him a sultry smirk, deciding to receive his missive more salaciously than she knew he had meant it.

"So we can get this whole tucking-in business over with," Severus growled in exasperation. "You're really not making this any easier on me." She giggled under her breath as she lay back on the pillows and tucked her feet under the folded corner of the blanket. She was going to be the death of him, he could see that now.

Severus peered down his nose at the cheeky witch. Her soft curls were haphazardly strewn across the pillow, framing her slightly flushed face like a honey-toned wreath. He drew a breath to fortify his ever-crumbling fortitude and reached into his robes for his wand. A wordless flick later and the girl was bound up to her neck by tightly tucked blankets, like an Egyptian mummy. It might not have been the arrangement she had envisioned but it was the most that his frail self-control could presently handle.

He smirked at the disappointed frown suddenly tugging on her lips. She obviously thought that he had outsmarted her and he was happy to play along with the misconception. He didn't wish for her to know how very close she was to breaking his resolve. "Satisfied?" he asked coyly, fighting the urge to grin.

Hermione chuckled at his tone and wiggled her arms out from under the newly-created stronghold. He had her trussed up like a damn cocoon, the sneaky bastard. "That was clearly cheating but effective, I suppose.

"I don't recall you establishing any rules."

"True enough. I guess I'll have to be more precise next time," she replied thoughtfully. "I nearly forgot who I was dealing with."

"Next time?" he scoffed, knowing that he'd never allow himself to be caught in such a dangerously intimate situation with the Gryffindor again. Once out of this maddening house and back behind the familiar stone walls of the castle, he would return to taking an arm's reach approach with his audacious apprentice.

"Oh, come on," Hermione said with a grin. He really wasn't fooling anyone but himself at this point. "It wasn't all that bad, now was it?"

"You have no idea," he muttered, slipping his wand back inside his robes.

"Well, you suffered through it admirably," she teased. "And I only have one more favor to ask and then you'll be free to do as you please." She was careful not to say _free to go_ seeing how she was doing everything within her power to take that option off the table.

" _One more_?" Snape repeated incredulously, crossing his arms protectively over his chest again. "I've read you a bedtime story, escorted you to your room, and tucked you into bed. What more could you possibly expect from me, woman? We've already stepped well outside the realm of decorum."

Hermione sighed and shook her head slightly. This whole seduction thing was proving to be far more complicated than she'd bargained for. Damn wizarding ethics. "There you go worrying about other people's opinions again."

"It's a legitimate concern," Severus insisted, trying to get that fact through the witch's abnormally thick, albeit beautiful, skull. "I am your teacher, your master now, and your guardian for this evening. None of those titles make it the slightest bit appropriate for me to be in your bedchambers, granting you favors."

She waved her hands around the dim room, fire spiking in her eyes. "Appropriate to _whom_? Do you see anyone else around? No one knows you're here but me and I'm certainly not going to tell anyone."

"A lack of witnesses doesn't make the crime any less punishable."

"What crime?" she exclaimed, fighting the constrictive blankets so that she could sit up. "Since when did talking to another human being get added to the list of Unforgivables?"

He scowled. "That's oversimplifying matters and you know it." He saw no need to spell it out for the girl. She knew as well as he did what they were oh-so-carefully _not_ discussing.

Hermione sighed irritably and threw her hands up in defeat, feeling dizzy from the circular pattern of their conversation. "Can't we forget about what everyone else might think or say about something that's none of their business, just for the next five minutes?"

Severus' thin lips curled upward as he studied the passionate witch. She was relentless, but gods, she was breathtaking when she got fired up about something. He knew that he should deny her wishes and leave the room immediately — his conscience had been berating him to do just that since he'd been drawn into the room — but it seemed impossible to convince the rest of his body to heed the advice. His legs felt as if they were permanently anchored to the floor and his tongue was suddenly lodged somewhere past his larynx.

Hermione mistook his silence for an assent and her heart began to flutter wildly again. She wasn't entirely sure that she had the nerve to pull off the next, and hopefully final, phase of her impromptu plan but the proud Gryffindor was anything but a quitter. She smiled up at his oddly frozen features. "So about this last favor..."

He blinked several times in rapid succession, trying to locate his vocal cords, before speaking so low that the sound barely escaped his lips. He literally had no fight left, not with himself and certainly not with her. "What is it that you require?"

She stared into his eyes for a long moment, knowing that they had reached the cornerstone of their entire interaction this evening. She was nervous but behind the cold, bitter shell, past the self-loathing and the disappointments, and underneath the defeat she knew her nettling had caused, there was a gentle, reassuring warmth in his obsidian gaze that gave her the courage to utter her next words. "It's not much... just a kiss good night."

Severus stumbled back half a step in surprise. He hadn't seriously thought she'd be so brazen. He had feared it but not truly expected it. "Miss Granger... I... We..." he stammered, unable to form a single coherent sentence.

Something deep inside Hermione took over at that moment and pushed all conscious reason and control out of her head. She fought her way out of the blankets and stood up directly in front of the stuttering wizard. Without a second thought, she placed her index finger over his thin lips, squelching his attempt at an objection. He was so startled that he couldn't do anything but stare dazedly into her eyes.

"I know this is what I want," she assured him in a soft whisper, meeting his gaze steadily. "And I'm pretty sure that if you'd just stop worrying about everything beyond that you'd realize that you want it too." Still reacting on pure instinct, she stood on her toes, stroked his stubbled cheek with her free hand and whispered, "There's nobody here but us, Severus."

The sound of his given name on her little pink lips broke the last tattered shred of his resistance. In that instant, alone in the candlelight, she was no longer his student, no longer someone that he could never be good enough for, no longer the one weakness that would lead to his inevitable ostracism from polite society. She was simply a beautiful, brilliant, courageous woman that for whatever unthinkable reason, wanted him, and beyond his fear and denial, he knew he wanted her just as much.

He was standing on a dangerous precipice; on one side stood the life he had known since the Dark Lord's defeat — safe and comfortable in its own perverse way — and on the other was a massive, shadow-filled cavern representing the unknown. Despite the fact that the chasm could very well be lined with dagger-sharp rocks that would be his demise, the normally cautious wizard couldn't help but fling himself towards the darkness with outstretched arms. He pulled the woman towards him and without hesitation, crushed his lips to hers.

The sheer electricity that flowed through that first harsh, passionate contact was enough to make Hermione's already-weak knees buckle uselessly beneath her. The wizard held her tightly against his chest as he continued to ply her mouth with his surprisingly warm lips, his kisses becoming gentler but more confident than the first. The only halfway coherent thought that broke through her haze-filled mind was how incredible the mouth that had snarled and spewed such venom in the classroom felt when paired with her own. The only other person she had ever kissed was Viktor, who with all his fangirls and hundred-thousand Galleon contracts, was still very much a boy when compared to the man that was embracing her now. The world could fall off its axis and hurl helplessly through space at that very moment and she wouldn't care less.

Severus' mind, on the other hand, had shut off completely. All he knew was the witch in his arms, whose mouth was as soft as velvet and tasted faintly of the wine they had shared earlier. He thought of nothing as he mapped each tiny crevice of her plump lips with his own, besides the yearning to know if what lay beyond the barrier was just as sweet and intoxicating. His tongue, intent on discovering the answer, darted out and trailed across the fortress' horizontal weakness. The angelic creature in his arms mewled softly and granted him immediate entrance.

As his tongue slid between her parted lips, he couldn't contain the groan that issued from deep within his chest. The inner recess of her mouth was invitingly warm, lined with perfect teeth and tasted of the most extraordinary combination of peppermint and Bordeaux. He took a quick tour of the perimeter, teased her smaller tongue for only a second and then retreated to drink in her lips once again.

Hermione whimpered in protest at the wizard's recession and he chuckled against her mouth. Not being one to be outdone, she fisted her hands around the flaps of his robes and pulled the tall wizard down to her level. She experimentally traced the thin lines of his lips with her tongue before pushing her way inside.

The man on the receiving end seemed to approve of her actions, judging by the way one of his hands came up to snake into her curls while the other slipped beneath the hem of her T-shirt and began to stroke the sensitive skin of her lower back. Shivers of pleasure ran down her spine at the contact. She was drunk with the all-encompassing feeling of the moment.

Severus was consumed, body and soul, by the fearless Gryffindor. He had been with various women over the years - fellow Death Eaters, when he was younger and more foolish, and a few colleagues in the Potions circuit later on — but he had never, not once, experienced the amount of passion that was pouring out of this witch. It felt as if it was burning to the very core of him, blazing through all the bitter walls he had painstakingly erected as if they were nothing more substantial than parchment.

They kissed for several minutes in the flickering candlelight to the musical patterns of two thudding heart beats. As Hermione slid her fingers into the baby-fine hair at the nape of the wizard's neck, the hand that had been swirling patterns on the skin above her waistband began to slowly move up and around the front of her body. She nearly giggled as his palms passed lightly over her ribs. She had always been somewhat ticklish there, but she swallowed the laughter before it could begin when his destination became clear.

Severus hadn't been thinking but acting on pure carnal desire as he moved to touch the petite witch more intimately. In the motion, however, the faded House crest on her flimsy shirt wrinkled under his fingertips and caught his attention. His conscience took advantage of the red herring and reasserted itself almost painfully, forcing him to pull away from her lips to scowl down at the offending garment. A thousand thoughts flashed through his mind in an instant and not a single one was pleasant. Good gods, what had he done?

"What's the matter?" Hermione asked breathlessly in response to the sudden distance between them.

Without replying, he stepped further away and sat down on the ottoman beside the bed. How could he have let this happen? He had practically molested a student! Willing or not, he had taken advantage of the girl's misplaced feelings in the worst possible way. Hadn't he destroyed enough in his lifetime? He dropped his head into his hands in disgust.

"What's wrong?" Hermione repeated, worried now by the obvious distress in the man's body language. Her mind whirled with possibilities of what had caused his abrupt withdrawal from her. "Did I do something wrong?"

Severus grimaced at the uncertainty in her voice. "No," he replied flatly, the sound muffled by his palms — palms that had violated one of the only rules he had abided by in his dismal life. Bile started to rise to the back of his throat.

"Then what's going on?"

He sighed and dropped his hands from his face, instantly replacing every mask that she had so effortlessly managed to rip away. "We shouldn't be doing this, Miss Granger." His voice was cold and distant.

Hermione's spine prickled uncomfortably at his use of her family name. He had yet to call her anything more intimate but in this particular situation, the formalness was foreboding. With a tentative step forward, she reached out to touch his shoulder but he jerked away. "What brought this on so suddenly?" she whispered.

"It's just wrong!" he snarled, then immediately stamped out his misdirected anger. This was not _her_ fault.

"And you came about that incredibly inept conclusion while kissing me?" she snapped back, feeling hot angry tears make their way to the foreground. "Am I really that repulsive to you?"

His hard eyes darted to her crumpled face, chastising her for such a ridiculous question, and then away again, instantly regretting the decision. The pain on her features would've been heartbreaking, if he had thought he had a heart to break. "Do not even think such a foolish thing. Nothing could be farther from the truth."

A small smile bloomed at what she construed as a compliment but died an early death at the obvious contradiction between his actions and his words. "If we were both enjoying ourselves then what's the problem? Why did you pull away?"

"Your shirt," was his only reply, as if that answer could explain a multitude of sins. Perhaps in his mind, it did.

She glanced down at herself and frowned. She assumed the Slytherin crest was a reminder that she was still a Hogwarts student but she wasn't entirely sure what to do about it. The moral implications of this evening obviously bothered him far more than they concerned her, which was rather ironic considering his dubious character. She sighed. "I thought we decided not to worry about everyone else."

He laughed derisively, still not looking in the witch's direction. "I believe your proposed five minute time limit has long since lapsed."

Hermione huffed in annoyance and lowered herself to her knees in front of the wizard. She sat back on her heels, placed her palm on his leg and stared at him. She refused to let this whole thing go down in flames over a bloody pajama top.

Severus swiftly turned his head to avoid her accusation-laden gaze, already contemplating how he was going to make it through the remainder of the school year with her honey-brown eyes following him around the dungeons. Perhaps he could arrange for her to test out of Potions early; then he wouldn't have to bear her close proximity until after she finished school. If she could still stand the sight of him after that, they might manage to make it through her apprenticeship. More than likely, though, she'd never want to see him again after tonight. Well, he knew plenty of respectable masters that would jump at the opportunity to mentor such a brilliant mind. He'd find her the best one possible if she'd allow him to.

"Look at me, damn it!" she demanded, causing his head to whip around in shock. Her face was drawn into an angry scowl and her eyes were alight with a raging fire of indignation. He sucked in a sharp breath at the intensity of her glare.

"I do not care what other people think about _us_ ," Hermione seethed, pronouncing each word with deliberate force, tears sliding down her cheeks unchecked. "Not Dumbledore, not my friends, not even Merlin himself! In fact, at this particular moment, I'm not terribly concerned with what _you_ think — or think you think, anyway."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, not knowing how to handle her obstinate anger. He quickly cast a Muffliato charm over the two of them, lest they wake up the entire house. In a tone of forced composure, he replied, "You have no idea the problems this will cause. Once we're back at the castle and resume our normal lives, you will change your mind. You will not want this staining your reputation."

"I will not change my mind!" Hermione shouted, taking full advantage of his Silencing Charm. "Don't you dare tell me how I might think or feel, Severus Snape! You have no idea how much I've thought about this!" He looked angry now but angry was good. That was an emotion she could deal with — that she was used to — not like the former distress that she had felt powerless against.

"You are my student, Miss Granger," he replied, his voice still quiet but now deadly cold. He sneered at the serpent insignia on her chest. "That makes all of this completely unacceptable."

Being far from ready to give up, the Muggle-born growled in utter frustration, grabbed the hem of her shirt, and ripped it off over her head. She balled it up and shook it under his hawkish nose, too incensed to be embarrassed now. "I don't care about this!" she yelled and threw the catalyst on the floor in disgust. She met his wide eyes with determination. "I only care about this," she said, placing her hand over her heart, which felt like it was performing a series of frantic somersaults. "And this," she whispered as she reached out and laid her other hand to his chest, her brown eyes softening at the gesture.

The Potions Master's cheeks reddened and he opened his mouth but before he could remember how to speak, a loud crack filled the silent bedchamber and Popkins materialized in the middle of the room. They both jumped in surprise at the arrival. Snape stood quickly from the ottoman and Hermione let out a startled shriek as she scrambled to stand behind the wizard and shield her naked torso with the voluminous fabric of his robes.

The wrinkly house-elf's green eyes widened dramatically and she quickly diverted them to the ground. "Popkins is being sorry, Miss!"

Severus, who had finally found his voice, was furious at the untimely interruption and snarled. "Get out, Elf!"

Popkins peeked up cautiously to make sure that the girl had covered herself properly before meeting the dark-haired wizard's enraged glare. "Master is sending Popkins to retrieve Master Snape," she squeaked with a slight tremble.

"Oh my goodness!" Hermione cried, losing her grip on the robes and momentarily exposing too much skin again. "Is Lucius okay?"

The elf looked at her curiously, like she didn't quite understand the question. "Master is being quite well."

"Then get out!" the professor bellowed again.

"But Master is asking for Master Snape!" Popkins insisted, unaffected by the goings on of the humans. Her only concern was the wishes of the Lord of the Manor and nothing would prevent the wizened house-elf from fulfilling her duty.

"Now?!" Severus shouted, looking for all the world like he could burn a hole straight through the insubordinate creature's tea towel.

She nodded emphatically. "Master is saying right away!"

Hermione, ever the level-headed champion of the oppressed, touched the man's sides through the robes she was still clinging to, to get his attention. She wasn't very fond of the persistent house-elf at that moment either but they weren't getting anywhere by arguing with it. Popkins was obviously on a mission.

"It must be important," she reasoned from behind him. "You should go see what he needs." She felt the tension in his frame abate slightly at her words.

"Tell Lucius I will be there in a moment," Severus said to the elf, who shook her entire body in response.

"Master is saying not to leave without Master Snape."

Hermione felt the growl build in the wizard's chest before it filled the room. She was starting to worry about the little creature's likelihood of being hexed. She wasn't in the mood to stop him if he tried.

"Then turn around so that the lady may cover herself at least."

Popkins dutifully turned around and faced the door. Once assured that all eyes were focused away from her, Hermione stepped away from the wizard, grabbed her own robes from the end of the bed and wrapped them tightly around her. She crossed her arms over her chest as well, feeling far more exposed than she had ever intended. "Okay," she said weakly.

Severus turned cautiously and was pleased to see the witch was fully covered. Her hasty demonstration had certainly made its point but had become mortifying for them both with the elf's arrival. Stepping closer to her, he stared into the woman's warm chocolate eyes for several moments, struggling with the complex emotions that warred inside him. He reached out and tucked an errant curl behind her ear before tentatively running his fingertips down her smooth cheek, marveling at how she could still lean into his touch after all that he had done. "I'm sorry," he murmured thickly, "for more than you'll ever know." Her answering smile reflected in his dark eyes before he turned back to their visitor.

He sneered down at the slightly cowering servant. "Lead the way."

Popkins nodded and toddled off towards the door, not sparing another glance in the bushy-haired girl's direction.

"Will you come back?" Hermione called hesitantly when the oddly-matched pair had nearly reached the hall. She couldn't help it. She had no idea where they were feelings-wise. She had no idea if he was still angry with her or himself. She didn't know if her little display had made its point or not. She wanted him to come back — needed him to come back — so they could talk some more and figure out how to move forward from this point. She also desperately wanted him to kiss her again.

Snape turned to face her, folding his arms in front of him in mock displeasure. "That depends. Will you be screaming at me again?"

She smiled at the hint of laughter dancing in his eyes, overwhelmingly relieved by his teasing reply. "More than likely."

He smirked and said, "Then I'll see what I can do," before turning and disappearing into the darkness beyond the door.

Hermione sighed as she watched the door close behind the maddening wizard of her dreams. So many thoughts were rushing through her mind at once that she was hard pressed to pin any of them down for further investigation. The color in her cheeks flamed to life as she remembered exactly what lengths she had gone to. Despite her embarrassment, she was almost positive that he was going to give in before Lucius' summons had interrupted them. And in that moment, when she was granted the briefest glimpse of the vulnerable wizard's heart, she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, where her ultimate goal laid.

When this unorthodox and utterly ridiculous crush had crept upon her, it was clear that it was mostly comprised of intellectual admiration and physical desire. But now, now that they had come so close to fulfilling her previous fantasies, she could appreciate just how much her desires had evolved. She was no longer satisfied with a merely physical connection, no matter how earth-shaking it was. She wanted the wizard for longer than a one night fling — or a whole host of meaningless encounters, for that matter. Her sights were now set on the whole battered and possibly irrevocably damaged package. If she was going to do this, then by gods, she was going to do it full out. She was going to find a way into the Potions Master's prickly heart.

Grinning in the face of a new, seemingly impossible, yet nonetheless thrilling, challenge, the Head Girl took off her robes again and crawled into bed. She decided to leave the cursed shirt crumpled on the floor where she had thrown it. It was obviously unlucky. In fact, if it hadn't belonged to Draco, she would have blasted the damned thing to shreds for all the trouble it had caused. She'd have to remember to smack its owner the next day for that brilliant idea.

Dousing the candles with her wand and casting the room into moonlit shadows once again, she closed her eyes to await the wizard's return. Her insomnia, though still present, didn't bother her now. She had more than enough to think about in the quiet darkness.


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

Snape followed the elderly house-elf through the dark hallways in the direction of the manor's master suite. With each step he tried to focus all of his energy on being angry at Lucius, intending on giving the older wizard quite a piece of his mind for summoning him in the middle of the night like he was a bloody servant, but his thoughts kept persistently drifting back to the Gryffindor witch. The feeling of her lips was still burned on his own as his mind replayed their heated confrontation — the sight of her bare breasts, the fire in her eyes, and the passionate declaration of her words.

In all honesty, he was still in shock. When it had become apparent that she fancied him, he naturally assumed that her desires were strictly physical. She had made it quite clear that she admired and respected him, but he figured that she had simply misinterpreted that as attraction, as randy teenagers were apt to do. No woman in her right mind would consider him good enough for anything more than an easy shag. In a moment of weakness and possible insanity, he had given in to her, shut down his conscience, and for the first time ever, enjoyed the benefits that came with delusional schoolgirl crushes.

Her brash demonstration, however, had alluded to deeper feelings. Her words made it seem as if she believed that he was someone she could really care for, maybe even _love_ , and Severus didn't have the slightest clue what to do with that. He hadn't felt any emotions even remotely close to love in more years than the girl had been alive.

As a small boy, he had loved his mother, of course, but as he grew, that love had been twisted into pity and residual anger at the fact that she had continually allowed his bastard of a father to crush her, both mentally and physically. By the time of her death, there hadn't been any love left for the battered shell of a woman that had given birth to him.

Snape had only loved one other person in his lifetime, a beautiful redheaded firecracker that had stolen his heart as an eleven year old. He would have done everything under the stars for that witch but his feelings were never reciprocated. In the end, she hadn't cared enough for him to forgive his childish mistakes and had, in turn, fallen for the one wizard that Severus could never win against. The love that had once bloomed full force in his heart had become something quite different over the past twenty years. It had been the cold and bitter catalyst that fueled his compulsory revenge on the Dark Lord and the only reason why he had been able to continually protect a boy that he otherwise despised. But with those requirements finally fulfilled, the last shred of affection he had felt had dissolved and been replaced by a barren and scarred void where his heart had once beat.

The former spy knew that he was incapable of loving the little witch that had invaded his senses that evening, if that was indeed her intentions, but it was obvious now that he felt more for her than he had initially realized and was all but powerless to refuse her. Even with the knowledge of how ethically wrong it was, he wanted nothing more at that moment than to turn around and return to her room, to apologize profusely, and to worship her body for the remainder of the night. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to do just that as the master suite came into view.

Popkins turned towards him when she reached the closed double doors, bowed deeply and then, without a word, Disapparated. Severus silently cursed the meddlesome creature before attaching a nasty sneer and storming into the bedroom to confront her master. "This better be bloody well important, Malfoy!"

The pure-blood looked quite at his leisure, propped up on his immense four-poster bed by several satin pillows, dressed in a fine linen nightshirt and dressing gown, and neatly blanketed with a luxurious dark blue comforter. He smiled innocently at his perturbed friend. "Do keep your voice down. You'll wake the entire house. I'm sure Draco's asleep, at least," he said with a knowing smirk.

Snape stalked across the large room and sat down in the armchair near the bed before glaring menacingly at the older wizard. Lucius chuckled at his dark mood. "Calm down, Severus. Would you like Popkins to fetch you some tea? Or warm milk, perhaps? I believe there's still a vial or two of your Calming Draught in the bathroom cabinet."

"I don't need a Calming Draught, nor do I want any of your dratted refreshments, Lucius. This is not a bloody tea party!" he barked. "You pulled me away from a very delicate situation on the pretense of an emergency, yet you appear perfectly fine." He whipped his wand out of his robes and pointed it at the irritatingly serene wizard. "Perhaps I should rectify that."

"It's because of that _delicate_ situation that I requested your presence," the blond calmly explained, not bothering to bat an eye at the wand aimed in his direction. "I sent Popkins to your chambers to see if you needed anything before retiring but you weren't there. When I asked where you had gotten to, she dutifully informed me that you were, in fact, in Miss Granger's room." He smirked again. "Imagine my surprise."

Severus' sneer deepened. "Why are your blasted house-elves spying on me?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "They're not spying on you. You're well aware of how their magic works."

The professor sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling his earlier headache return with a vengeance. His mind was a jumbled mess of conflicting emotions and his friend's calm disposition was beginning to thoroughly piss him off. "Say whatever it is you wish to say, Lucius. Let's get this over with."

The pure-blood smoothed out a non-existent wrinkle on the duvet. "I'm just questioning your thinking, Severus. I realize that Hermione represents a challenge to you; she's obviously smart and unabashedly determined, not a bad looking witch either, but—"

"I swear to Salazar, if you say anything degrading about her parentage, I'll head back to the castle and start brewing an antidote straight away!" the Potions Master interjected, leaning forward balefully. He was angry enough at that moment to carry through with the threat.

Lucius scowled at the younger wizard. "I wasn't going to say anything about her being Muggle-born, you idiot."

"Then what were you going to say?" Severus snapped.

"If you'd shut up for a minute, I could tell you."

The dark-haired man ground his teeth together but kept quiet and after a minute, Lucius continued. "I was simply going to point out that, despite all her alluring qualities, she's young and, if I'm not mistaken, quite _innocent_ , as well."

"And you think I don't know that?" Snape countered, gesticulating irritably with his wand. "I haven't been able to do anything but think about that fact for the past several hours."

"Then why are you doing this?" the blond questioned again. "You've never been even remotely tempted by a student before, despite the fact that you've been surrounded by the little chits for fifteen years now. Gods know I wouldn't have been able to show that amount of self-denial but you've always possessed that quality to a remarkable degree. What's so special about this girl?"

The wizard sighed and slumped back into the armchair. "I don't have the faintest idea," he lamented. "She's undeniably the most intriguing woman that I've ever had the misfortune to meet but I honestly don't know why I'm so drawn to her. I was able to defy the Dark Lord's manipulations for two decades, yet, for the life of me, all that little slip of a witch has to do is smile her crooked smile at me and I'm suddenly acting like a pubescent schoolboy." He sneered at his own foolishness. "It's infuriating but despite my best efforts, I can't get her out of my head."

"Well wonders never cease," Lucius said, shaking his head in amazement. "I never thought I'd live to see the day when a woman would finally be able to break through your defenses. You _fancy_ her, Severus, even if you're too thick to see it."

"Fancy her?" Snape repeated incredulously. "I don't have the luxury of fancying her. She's my student, for Merlin's sake, and my apprentice, if she's still willing to accept the position after tonight."

"You're taking on an apprentice? You didn't tell me that."

"Yes, I offered her an apprenticeship just this evening. It is something I've been considering for a while now," the professor explained blithely. "I told you the woman is brilliant."

The blond gave his friend an appraising look. "And you're sure that the position isn't an attempt to bed her? You've never deemed to mentor anyone before."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm positive that saddling myself with a private pupil for the next foreseeable future was not a poorly planned effort of seduction. She has earned the appointment."

"More's the better then," Lucius replied. "So what exactly is the problem? You fancy her. She's of age and barely has half a year of school left. If she's willing, then why the hell should anything else matter?" The pure-blood had never concerned himself much with what was deemed acceptable or not by the general public. The Malfoy bank accounts were large enough that he didn't have to worry about such trivial matters.

The younger Slytherin scowled. "Firstly, stop saying that I _fancy_ her. And secondly, weren't you just trying to talk me out of this? Isn't that why you had me dragged away from the girl's chambers in the first damn place?"

"Well, yes," he admitted, "but that was before I realized that you've developed feelings for the witch." It was true. When he had learned of the man's whereabouts, Lucius had immediately ordered Popkins to fetch him, assuming that his old friend was on the verge of making a grave mistake and had had every intention of telling him so. But now that he had seen for himself that there was something more to the man's attraction than mere lust — a monumental discovery, to say the least — he was more in the mind to encourage the union than oppose it. "You deserve happiness as much as anyone else does, Severus, more so even, considering your frightening lack of it thus far. And if this witch is a probable source of such happiness, then I'm not going to deny you that. The question is why are _you_ denying yourself the opportunity?"

"She deserves better," Snape muttered. That was the real root of the problem, when it came down to it. She deserved the world and he no longer possessed the ability to give it to her, to anyone.

"Better than what? When are you going to stop being so bloody hard on yourself? I'll admit that you're a sarcastic, severely unpleasant man, possessing none of my radiant good looks," Lucius goaded, flipping his hair over his shoulder, "but Hermione is apparently immune to those shortcomings. That alone is enough to prove that you shouldn't let her get away." He smirked at his best friend's indignant scowl before becoming serious again. "Just because Evans was too much of a stupid bint to see your redeeming qualities doesn't mean that no woman can."

Severus growled in warning and the older wizard held up his hand in defense. "I know, Severus, I know — better than most, I'm sure — but it's time to let it go — let _her_ go. What good will it do to live the rest of your life chasing after a ghost?"

"I'm not chasing after a ghost. I accepted Li... _her_ death a long time ago."

"Accepted, maybe, but have you moved on? Have you cared about anyone or anything other than that witch's memory in twenty years?" Lucius challenged, already knowing the answer. "You can't live your life that way. It's time that you forgive yourself for those mistakes and allow yourself to experience some joy — the type that only the affections of a living, breathing woman can supply. I think Hermione, despite her age and inexperience, could provide you with that quite nicely. I surely don't know any other woman that would be willing to put up with your miserable arse."

The wizard laughed darkly, running a hand through his limp hair. "Lovely little pep talk, Lucius — Narcissa would've been proud — but I'm afraid it's all for naught. Even if she could forgive me for the way I've treated her tonight, I wouldn't have the first clue how to go about courting a witch, let alone a strong-willed Gryffindor her age."

"It would be easier if she was a Slytherin, wouldn't it?" the blond asked theoretically. "How exactly did you treat her tonight? What horrible behavior do we have to overcome?"

Severus sighed, laid his wand in his lap and began to massage his temples. He would have to locate a headache potion before doing anything further. "Not horrible, all things considered. But I kissed her." He sighed again. "And then cursed her for still being my student."

Lucius laughed. "No, it could have definitely been worse. Regardless, I think the main thing to remember is that if you want more than just getting her between the sheets, you need to take things slow at first. Young women are notorious for letting their emotions dictate their behavior and they almost always end up regretting it in the end. It's up to you to be the level-headed one, to counterbalance her impulses with reason."

He snorted. "You're showing your ignorance of the girl's character again. I've never in my life encountered such fierce determination. If Hermione Granger wanted to rule the wizarding world and have us all act as wish-granting genies to the Muggles, she wouldn't stop until she made it happen."

"Then I guess it's a good thing that Popkins interrupted when she did," Malfoy replied with a wicked grin. "Might I suggest that you return to your own chambers tonight and steer clear of the temptation?"

Severus thought of the beautiful, curly-haired enchantress awaiting his return and knew, without question, that he didn't possess enough strength to deny her anything at this point. With a sigh, he nodded. "That would probably be wise."

"Don't look so forlorn. This is a good thing."

Snape snorted derisively again. "Will you still say that when Dumbledore sacks me for seducing one of his prized pupils?"

"Ah, now that would be a fly in the potion," Lucius said thoughtfully. "But you know as well as I do that there aren't any laws forbidding relations between a teacher and a student of age."

"Not officially, but between Albus and Minerva..." The professor grimaced at the thought of the stern Animagus. She'd have his head on a platter is she knew he was entertaining such notions about one of her charges — one of her favorites. "I doubt that it'd take much to convince the school governors to change that particular policy. I don't think it's been challenged in centuries."

"So you'll be discreet. You were a bloody spy, after all. Secrecy's your forte and it'd only be for a few months."

"I suppose," Severus replied, considering that possibility. No one knew better than he how to operate covertly within the walls of Hogwarts, but there was so much to think about, to reconcile within himself, before he could even think of that as a workable option. "I don't even know for sure if she's interested in taking things beyond this weekend."

"Oh, she's interested," the pure-blood assured him, without a doubt in his mind. "She wouldn't be here if she wasn't."

"She came here to see the potion being tested this morning," the clueless wizard argued. "She was quite excited to witness the experiment."

"Do you really think so?" Lucius asked with a raised brow. "Do you honestly believe that she'd be the slightest bit interested in seeing me cured, after the way I've treated her in the past, if it wasn't for your involvement?" He shook his head at the other man's confused expression. "If she didn't have designs on _you_ , she wouldn't have come within a ten mile radius of here and I wouldn't have blamed her for it. Not to mention, she's a Gryffindor and therefore wears her emotions on her sleeve. You'd have to be blind not to see it on her face every time she looks at you."

"See what, exactly?"

" _See what_?" the blond repeated in exasperation. "Good gods, Severus. How the hell have you made it through life knowing this little about women?" He laughed at the scowl that that question elicited. "For reasons inconceivable to the rest of us, that doe-eyed witch is in love with you. Make no mistake about it."

Severus couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from lifting in response to the wizard's claims. Against all reason, he really did want to believe that Hermione Granger was someone special, someone capable of caring for him, but more than anything, he wanted to believe that he was capable of caring for her in return. He might not possess the ability to love, but he was pretty sure that he would be able to express his own stunted version of affection, and gods knew, he was capable of devotion. Would that be enough to make up for what he couldn't offer? Was it really possible for him to be involved with the woman in that manner and not have it blow up in face?

Lucius' smile was genuine as he watched his friend contemplate the possibilities. The realization that the ex-Death Eater and former spy was capable and deserving of contentment, and even happiness, had been a very long time coming — probably even longer than they had been friends. And if it took a Muggle-born Gryffindor twenty years the man's junior to accomplish that, then so be it. "Perhaps we should call it a night. Go to bed, think things over, and get some rest. Tomorrow is bound to bring more surprises."

The Potions Master laughed and stiffly pushed himself out of the chair, feeling the weight of the day deep within his muscles. "I'm not sure how many more surprises I can handle."

The older Slytherin chuckled. "Good night, dear friend. Sleep well."

Severus stopped at the foot of the bed, looked up at his closest confidant and nodded, unsure of how to express his gratitude to the wizard for helping him to sort out the thoughts that had previously been nothing but sheer chaos. Oddly enough, no one had ever understood the twisted workings of his multi-faceted psyche better than the egotistical, prissy blond and subsequently, no one had ever known how to make him see reason quite like Lucius could. Perhaps it was one of fate's cruel little jokes that he should be so indebted to such an incomparable prat. "Thank you, Lucius."

The pure-blood replied with one of his most award-worthy smiles. "Think nothing of it. I dare say that I've yet to even begin to repay my debts to you or Miss Granger."

The dark-haired wizard shook his head in denial of any such claim, waved farewell, and let himself out of the master suite. After a contemplative glance in the direction of Hermione's room, he set off towards the western wing of the manor, which housed his usual guest chambers. He hoped she wouldn't be too angry with him in the morning for not returning, but then again, if she demonstrated that anger the way she had earlier that evening, he really wouldn't be all that opposed to it either. With an amused shake of his head at the memory of the obstinate witch's antics, Severus entered his darkened bedroom and silently shut the door behind him.


	17. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

Sleep overcame Hermione far more quickly than she had predicted it would. Her mental replay of the evening's events had lasted only about twenty minutes in reality — not even long enough to realize that the professor wasn't coming back — before she was comatose. Despite the momentous day she had had, she enjoyed an extremely restful night of sleep. Even her dreams, which normally ranged from frightening nightmares to intense fantasies, were surrealistically calm and uneventful. Perhaps serenity came as the aftermath of chaos or perhaps her mind was simply at ease as a result of the happiness she had felt at the culmination of the evening. Either way, she slept like the dead.

The next morning Draco was sent by his father and godfather to fetch the Head Girl when she failed to show up for breakfast. It was just as well because both wizards were in the oddest moods. Lucius was being strangely chipper and Severus' demeanor was even frostier than usual. When he had jokingly asked the Potions Master how his night had been, the murderous glare he received in return was enough to make the younger Slytherin drop the subject entirely. Apparently things had not gone as well as they had in the library. Knowing Granger's lofty morals, she had probably sent Severus back to his rooms unsatisfied. Draco, who had experienced that sort of rejection once or twice when he'd foolishly tried to engage one of the more prudish chits in Ravenclaw, understood how that type of thing could make a wizard grumpy. So, without argument, he had left the older men to their contrasting moods and gone off in search of the absent witch.

When he reached the guest quarters, he knocked several times before losing his patience. "I'm coming in, Granger," he shouted through the wooden door. He counted to three then entered the sunlit room.

The first thing that caught the blond's attention was his T-shirt crumpled and discarded carelessly on the floor. He scowled at the ungrateful mistreatment and looked up to find the Muggle-born lying on her stomach, fast asleep and completely topless. "Oh, bloody hell!" he exclaimed, dropping his eyes back to the ground. "Wake up, Granger!"

After a few moments of awkward silence, he glanced up cautiously and found the girl still out cold, her unruly curls scattered across the smooth plane of her back. Being a living, breathing heterosexual male, he admired the display for a moment, taking note of a small cluster of freckles on her right shoulder, before realizing what he was doing and who exactly he was doing it to. He scowled again. "Granger!"

The half-dressed witch still didn't stir and Draco decided it was time for more invasive actions. Grinning darkly, he pulled his wand from the sleeve of his robes and pointed it at the bed. "Last chance, Granger," he warned before waving the magical rod in her direction. With a whispered, " _Aguamenti,_ " a clear jet of water sprang from the tip of his hawthorn wand and landed directly on top of the sleeping girl's head.

The effect was immediate. Hermione gasped and then screamed as the freezing cold water soaked through her hair, splashed onto her back, and puddled onto her pillow. She scrambled out of the bed, nearly tripping over the blankets as the Head Boy released the spell and doubled over with laughter.

"Malfoy!" she shouted, spinning around to glare at the hysterical pure-blood, her hair dripping wet. "I'm going to kill you!"

Conscious of the fact that she was still unknowingly exposing herself, Draco kept his eyes on the ground as he tried to catch his breath. As much as it pained him to admit, it was proving highly entertaining having the Gryffindor witch around. He hadn't laughed so much in ages.

Hermione continued to burn a hole through his bowed blond head with her eyes. She placed her hands on her hips, prepared to give the pure-blood the tongue lashing of his life, then shrieked again when she felt rather than saw her state of undress. She grabbed the duvet and wrapped it hastily around herself as the wizard began to laugh again.

"Well spotted, Granger," he goaded, finally looking her in the eye. "I was wondering how long it'd take for you to catch on." He sniffed at the air disdainfully, as if he had been greatly offended by her nakedness.

"What are you doing in here, Malfoy?" she demanded through clenched teeth, barely restraining herself from clobbering the arrogant arse, naked or not.

He flicked his wand at the bed, effortlessly drying the mess he had made, though purposely leaving the witch sopping wet. "Your presence is requested at breakfast. Put some bloody clothes on and be quick about it. I'll wait for you on the stairs." He gave her a condescending smirk before letting himself out of the room.

Hermione growled in annoyance and grabbed her wand from the bedside table before throwing the blankets off of herself and stalking into the bathroom. The Head Boy had seen her topless. Just perfect. That left only Lucius and the elf twins to go before the entire house would know exactly what she looked like under her clothes. There was a goal to shoot for.

She turned the water on in the shower, slipped off her pajama bottoms, and threw them angrily into the hamper, all the while contemplating how best to get back at the Malfoy heir for dousing her in cold water. Hexing every strand of his precious blond hair off his head sounded pretty promising. Bloody prat. It wasn't until she stepped into the steady cascade of hot water that her thoughts cleared enough for her to acknowledge the obvious white elephant she'd been thus far overlooking. She had fallen asleep alone and woken up alone, which meant that Snape hadn't returned the previous night as intimated.

Grabbing a bottle of shampoo and distractedly soaping up her hair, Hermione's mind began to race through possible explanations as to why the wizard would stand her up. She could only come up with three viable excuses and none of them were the least bit appealing. A) Something truly had been wrong with Lucius, beyond what Popkins could detect — this was unlikely, seeing how Draco had made no mention of it upon waking her. B) The older pure-blood had effectively talked his friend out of consorting with someone of her _inferiority_ — she was quick to dismiss this one too, on account of the treatment she had received the day before. Or the worst, and honestly most likely, possibility of all —the professor had reconsidered his earlier doubts himself and without her around to confuse him, had decided it best not to encourage anything further between the two of them. The mere thought of this pulled a strangled sort of sob from the witch's throat. The idea of him backpedaling yet again was nearly heartbreaking. She had come too far to have to turn back now and she wasn't sure that she had any more fight left in her.

As she quickly finished showering, all the Head Girl could think of was what she could possibly say to change the dark wizard's mind and how she'd ever be able to make it through the remainder of the school year if she wasn't successful. She couldn't even bear to contemplate what was going to happen to her newly-acquired apprenticeship now. She knew that there was no better option for her than to study under Snape but she doubted whether she'd be able to handle working so closely with him for another two and a half years if she was going to be kept at a strictly professional arm's length. Could she shut down her emotions long enough to manage the type of intimacy that an apprenticeship would require?

Hermione rubbed her hands over her face, which felt raw from the scalding hot water. She didn't know how to answer that question but it was moot anyway unless he was still willing to mentor her. After her behavior last night, she wouldn't be surprised if he had changed his mind about that as well. She knew she had pushed him way farther than she should have.

Gods, what was she going to do? For the first time since arriving at Malfoy Manor, she almost hoped that something had gone wrong with Lucius and the Cruciatus potion. At least then she wouldn't have to feel so utterly rejected.

With a groan, she pushed back the tears that threatened to overcome her, shut the water off, and exited the shower. She grabbed a large fluffy towel off the rack and wrapped it around her torso before walking to the mirror and beginning to pull herself together.

No matter what happened with the Potions Master, she refused to look like an emotionally hysterical child in his eyes or anyone else's. She would conduct herself with dignity and poise at all costs, even if at that moment she wanted nothing more than to Floo back to the castle, crawl into bed, and cry herself to sleep.

When the Gryffindor emerged from the bathroom with spell-dried curls and forcefully renewed inner strength, the first thing she noticed was that the house-elves had come and gone in her absence. The room had been tidied, the bed made with fresh linens, and her clothes from the day before were folded neatly on top of the white ottoman in the corner.

"Efficient little buggers," she mumbled, picking up the clean laundry and giving it an appreciative sniff. After last night, it wasn't surprising that she held some residual bitterness towards the Malfoys' servants, but deep down she knew it wasn't Popkins' fault that the professor had been called away — that blame fell entirely to Lucius. Or did it? Maybe the old housemates had arranged the summons ahead of time, in case Snape found himself caught in an undesirable situation.

Hermione frowned and pulled on her knickers. That idea was ridiculous. It was pretty apparent from their interactions that the wizard didn't have the foggiest idea about her feelings for him before she had made them so painfully obvious. Perhaps she should just curse them both and worry about straightening it all out later — that would certainly relieve some of her frustration. She'd hex Draco while she was at it for his rude idea of a wake-up call. Though, as is it stood now, he was possibly the only one in the house that didn't despise her. Ugh. That thought didn't bode well for the rest of her day.

With a sigh, she quickly finished dressing, slid her wand and the photographs from the nightstand into her robes, and left the guest bedroom that was now home to a whole host of memories. Unfortunately, only time would tell if they were memories that she'd end up regretting.

Hermione found Malfoy sitting at the top of the marble staircase as promised. Normally the idea of this particular wizard waiting on her would've made her smile, but this morning it only irked her further. In a split second decision, she opted against hexing him from behind in favor of some undercover reconnaissance.

Draco turned at the sound of the girl's approach and smirked. "Good morning, Granger."

"Is your father okay?" she asked quickly, ignoring his greeting.

The arrogance melted off his features in response to the urgency in her tone. He stood up. "He's fine. He and Severus are waiting for us in the dining room. Why?"

Hermione took a deep breath then scowled. That was one theory shot to hell. "Never mind. I just thought that something might have happened last night."

Draco's pale eyes narrowed. She seemed to be suffering from the same emotional imbalance that the rest of the house had been plagued by. What the hell had happened after he went to bed?

He watched the witch start down the stairs and hurried to join her, taking note of the obvious tension in her posture. Something was seriously wrong and whatever it was, he'd be willing to bet that it was the cause of his godfather's dark mood as well.

"What's the matter with you, Granger?" he asked, equaling his pace with hers. "If you're still upset about the water, I'm sorry, but I did try a gentler approach beforehand. You were out cold."

Hermione, whose mind was already preoccupied with what she was going to say to the two older wizards at breakfast, missed the Head Boy's apology completely. "What?" she asked distractedly.

He frowned. "I'm not going to apologize twice. What the hell's wrong with you this morning?"

"I've got a lot on my mind," she replied, showing no inclination of wanting to elaborate on that statement.

He glanced irritably at the laconic witch. "Like what? What exactly happened between you and Severus after you left the library last night?" He was so intent on finding out what was going on that he didn't even realize his slip.

But Hermione sure did. She stopped dead in her tracks, halfway down the staircase, and glowered darkly at the pure-blood, who continued down a few steps before stopping to look at her questioningly. "What did you just say?" she demanded in an icy whisper.

Draco's eyes widened slightly, instantly recognizing his mistake, and he gripped his wand inside his robes in the likely event that he'd have to defend himself against the suddenly irate woman. He cleared his throat. "Don't get your knickers in a twist—"

"Don't for one minute think you have any effect whatsoever on the state of my knickers, Malfoy," she interjected angrily.

He would've laughed if she wasn't quite so scary. "Maybe not, but someone sure has, and Severus is in a pissy mood, too. So what happened between the two of you? It's obvious that you weren't in that bed alone last night, unless you make a habit of sleeping topless."

"You asked what happened _after we left the library_ ," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "How did you know that we were in the library?"

He gave her what he hoped was a nonchalant shrug. "I have my ways. This is my house, after all."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously into slits as she pointed a finger at him. "You pompous little ferret, you were spying on us!"

Draco stepped down another step, putting more distance between them. "Lower your bloody voice, witch. I'd rather not get my godfather involved in this. I'm quite partial to my anatomy, if you don't mind."

Hermione couldn't even see straight she was so angry. How dare he tell her to be quiet after he had just sullied her fondest memory of this rapidly decaying weekend? She crossed her hands over her chest to keep them from shaking as she glared at the boy. "I don't give a damn about your delicate bits. I'd just as soon blast them off myself!"

He scowled. "Calm down, for Merlin's sake. Yes, I followed you to the library, but only to see what you were up to, sneaking about all alone. I had no idea that you were going to run into Severus but once you did, I had to stay and find out what happened. You would've done the same thing if the roles had been reversed."

"No, I wouldn't have! I would've seen a private moment between two people and left immediately, not stuck around, skulking in the shadows to watch the show like a pathetic little voyeur!"

He winced, more worried about her volume than her insult. What he needed was a diversionary tactic and quick — a compliment, perhaps. "You did well, Granger. I was especially impressed by the way you got him to talk about things that even I have never heard him discuss before."

She huffed irritably at his feeble attempt to placate her and sat down on the steps, not giving a damn that they were still expected at breakfast. "I don't know why I even bother being friendly with Slytherins. It's quite obvious that none of you are the least bit concerned about anyone's feelings but your own."

Draco leaned against the banister and folded his arms in a relaxed stance. It appeared, at least for now, that the immediate danger had passed. "And you bleeding heart Gryffindors are any better? You're all balls and bravery at the start but cut and run as soon as things get serious."

Hermione massaged her temples to disband the headache that she felt creeping upon her. "What the hell are you talking about?" she asked, not bothering to look up at the boy.

"Last night, obviously. Do try to keep up."

"I didn't cut and run," she muttered, her fingers swirling faster on the sides of her throbbing head.

"Well, something happened. Neither of you would be in such a foul mood if you had had a proper shag."

She glared up at his amused expression. "You're a complete idiot."

"Tell me I'm wrong, then," he challenged, knowing he wasn't. "Tell me the two of you were at it like Nifflers all night long and you're just cranky because you haven't had any coffee yet."

"Yes, Malfoy, you're completely wrong."

His planned boast died an instant death. "Really?"

"Yes, you're wrong about everything," she replied, if only for the satisfaction of seeing his smug features fall. "But no, we weren't shagging all night."

Draco grinned wickedly. "See, I'm not wrong, then. I very rarely am."

"You _are_ an arrogant prat."

"Proudly," he replied, running his conceited fingers through his irksomely flawless hair. "So, what _did_ happen while you weren't shagging, as I oh-so-correctly deduced?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business, really," Hermione replied briskly, more than a little embarrassed about the answer to that question. She didn't fancy having the details of her erratic behavior last night become front page news once they returned to the school and was still in the mind to believe that the Slytherin's trustworthiness was, at the very least, questionable.

"Of course it's my business," he insisted. "I was the one that told you to flirt with him to begin with and he is my godfather. That alone makes anything relating to him technically my business." He made a face. "Within reason. I'll probably sleep better at night if you leave out the more graphic details."

She rolled her eyes. "I hardly think that your parents' having the good sense to name him your guardian entitles you to know about his personal affairs. And I'm sure Snape would balk at the notion as well, which is precisely why you're bugging me instead of him."

Draco smirked. He certainly couldn't argue with that. Instead, he decided to change his mode of coercion. There was more than one way to skin a lioness, after all. "Oh, come on. I know you Gryffindors have an insuppressible need to analyze a problem to death and prattle on endlessly about your feelings. And let's face it, Granger, I'm the closest thing you've got to a confidant around here. You might as well take advantage of my curiosity while you can."

She sighed at the boy's persistence. "There's nothing to confide. You obviously know what happened in the library. After I got him up to my room, I confused him into kissing me good night and we ended up snogging."

Draco grinned. Finally they were getting somewhere. "Then what happened?" he pressed.

The witch's face screwed up in annoyance. "Then your gods-forsaken T-shirt made him change his mind. Which reminds me, I still owe you a hex or two for that disastrous idea."

"Changed his mind?" the blond repeated, confused. "Why the hell did he change his mind? It's not like you were wearing _your_ House colors — _that_ I could understand."

She scowled. "He changed his mind because apparently in his eyes I had 'Hey, she's your student and you're a dirty old letch' written across my chest."

The Head Boy couldn't help but snicker. "Well, he obviously knew that already and yet he's still been trying to flirt his way into your knickers."

She shook her head. "Weren't you paying any attention while you were _spying_ on us? He hasn't been flirting with me; he's been testing me to see if I could handle being his apprentice. A rather odd means of achieving that, I'll admit, but that was apparently his intention nonetheless."

"Oh, come off it. The man obviously fancies you."

Hermione shook her head again, despising how much this conversation physically hurt. Would she ever be able to breathe comfortably again? "Maybe he did, subconsciously, but he never had any plans on acting on it. I was trying my hardest to convince him that that was what he wanted before your bloody pajamas circumvented all my efforts."

The Slytherin frowned, refusing to take any part of the blame in this sordid tale. "So, he just saw the shirt and left? With no explanation? That doesn't make any sense."

"No," she replied with a weary sigh. "He saw the shirt and pulled away. When I pressed him for a reason, he basically said that he couldn't sleep with a student."

"And you just let him get away with that? You had to know that that sort of objection was going to come up eventually."

She scowled again. "No, I didn't just let him get away with it. I yelled at him, ripped the stupid shirt off, threw it in his face, and told him that I didn't give a damn about being his student."

Draco grinned almost proudly as the color on the witch's cheeks rose. He had to admit that she had more spunk than he'd ever given her credit for. "And how did our dear professor take that declaration?"

"I don't know. I got the impression that he was willing to work past the whole illicit affair thing, but your bloody house-elf interrupted us and whisked him away to see your father before he could say anything."

The blond's eyes widened. "Popkins walked in on you? While you were topless?"

"Apparated in, but yes."

He snorted at the afforded mental image. "It's a wonder Severus didn't kill her on the spot."

"He very nearly did," she replied, pushing herself up off the steps as Draco continued to chuckle. She was disgusted with their conversation and even more disgusted with herself. She had laid everything on the line and Snape had retreated as quickly as possible. She'd made an utter fool out of herself and probably ruined the best thing to ever happen in her academic career. The worst part about the whole ordeal was that she still had to suffer through an entire day having her grievous error shoved in her face. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," she muttered as she pushed past the boy.

"Hold up, Granger," he called, following in her wake. "I still don't understand why you're so upset. It's not like he left under his own volition. If you're going to be mad at anyone, it should be my father. Did Severus give you any reason to think that he'd be coming back after he left?"

Hermione didn't stop or slow her pace. Unless she flat out ran down the stairs and out the front door, he'd catch up with her anyway. "Yes, he said he would but he didn't. And seeing as your father didn't die or anything in the middle of the night, either Lucius talked him out of the whole idea or Severus came about the decision on his own accord. Either way, the answer's the same — he doesn't want to be with me." She felt the sting of salty tears again and bit her lip to force them back before glancing over her shoulder at her classmate. "Let's just drop it, okay? I'd like to get through today with at least a scrap of my dignity intact."

Draco grabbed her arm as she pushed through the door to the sitting room that they had all converged in the night before. He was pretty sure that he understood now why the witch was so testy but he still didn't completely comprehend the problem. The way he saw it, there were two people upset by the events of last night, not just one, which meant there had to be another angle to the story that she wasn't considering. "Stop a minute, Granger."

She turned and scowled at the wizard, pulling out of his grip. "What do you want, Draco?"

"Before you go barreling in there half-cocked, don't you think that you should at least consider that there might be another explanation?"

"Like what, exactly?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, but I'm nearly positive that Father wouldn't have talked Severus out of shagging you. For whatever crazy reason, he's taken a liking to you. As for the snarky git himself, I'm not sure what he was thinking, but it's quite obvious by his mood this morning that he's not happy about it. Maybe it just got late and he wanted to let you sleep."

Hermione gave him a look that clearly said, 'You don't honestly believe that bullshit excuse, do you?'

Draco grinned. "Okay, so maybe that's not it but I'm sure it was something. After everything you've been through to get this far, why are you letting this derail you before you've even heard the truth?"

"Because I've already made myself look like a complete fool," she replied, feeling too defeated to temper her honesty. "I don't have anything left."

The pure-blood shook his head and walked away. "Gryffindors, by nature, have an unending supply of foolishness. You've barely scratched the surface."

Hermione's eyes narrowed on the back of his retreating blond head as she calculated her chances of hexing the smirk off his smug face before he could draw his wand. She took off after him, her irritation with the Head Boy, at the moment, outweighing her irritation with the Potions Master. Though she never would've suspected it, that was exactly what the Slytherin had intended.

Catching up with him quickly, they walked side by side in silence until they neared the double doors of the dining room. Hermione stopped a few feet shy, suddenly feeling like she was going to vomit all over the undoubtedly priceless rug under her feet, and Draco looked back at her.

"Come on. How bad could it possibly be?" he asked in response to her slightly green complexion.

She began to shake her head but stilled almost immediately. The motion certainly didn't aid her nausea. "Can't I just Floo back to the castle? Surely you can make up an excuse for me." She had meant it as a joke but as soon as the words left her mouth, she realized how desperate they sounded.

"He knows where you live, Granger."

Receiving a half-hearted smile, Draco walked back to the girl and tugged on her arm, forcing her towards the dining room. "Look at it this way," he said with a grin, "this pretty much guarantees that Potions class will be anything but boring this year."

Despite herself, Hermione giggled and the Slytherin chose that precise moment to throw open the doors.

Both of the room's occupants immediately turned their attention to the arrival and to the laughing Muggle-born especially. Her stomach plunged to her knees and her eyes darted accusingly to her classmate, who simply chuckled as he walked to his seat. Had she been less annoyed, she probably would've been thankful for his distraction ploy. At least she looked carefree, even if she was far from it on the inside.

"Ah, there they are!" Lucius announced in greeting. "We were worried that you had left us, Hermione."

The Head Girl focused all of her energy on smiling at the older wizard, who looked quite handsome that morning with his corn silk hair pulled back from his face, and didn't so much as glance in the professor's direction even though she could feel his dark eyes trained on her every step as she made her way down the table. "I'm afraid I'm not that easy to get rid of, Lucius," she replied while taking her seat. "How are you feeling this morning?"

As impossible as it seemed, his smile widened. "Marvelous. Simply marvelous. And how did you sleep, my dear?"

Draco made an odd choking noise, trying to hold back his laughter, as he filled his glass from the communal jug of pumpkin juice, but the witch didn't miss a beat. If she had been an actress, this would've been the performance of a lifetime and she was determined not to miss a single cue. "I slept wonderfully. Your guest chambers are quite luxurious." Then she smiled sheepishly. "Could have used an alarm clock, though."

The boy beside her chuckled under his breath and passed her the pitcher. He was lucky that he didn't end up wearing the orange liquid for his trouble.

"No matter, we're simply killing time until ten anyway," Lucius explained. "Severus is quite determined not to admit to any form of success until it's official."

Hermione felt her mask slip only for a second at the mention of his name. Steeling herself to follow through with the ridiculous game that they had been playing all term, she glanced boldly in the Potions Master's direction. He was staring at the food on his plate like it was a ticking bomb. She smiled darkly at his discomfort and turned back to Malfoy Senior. "Yes, Professor Snape has always been a stickler for the rules, even the most _unnecessary_ ones."

Lucius smirked at the girl's cheek. If nothing else, she seemed to be able to hold her own against Severus' inhospitable personality and that, in itself, was a remarkable feat. "That is one of the bigger pitfalls of being associated with him, isn't it? I wonder," he glanced at his friend appraisingly, "is he really worth the trouble?"

Before she was able to put voice to the highly inappropriate reply that was on the tip of her tongue, Draco shoved a platter of fruit towards her. "Here, Granger. Eat."

In that instant, having been unceremoniously saved from certain embarrassment, Hermione forgave the blond for every pratty thing he had said or done that weekend and smiled gratefully at him as she accepted the tray. He rolled his eyes in response. Well, the shortest truce in history was still a truce just the same. She quietly filled her plate.

For ten solid minutes, no one spoke and the only sound in the dining room emanated from the slight scraping of silverware across china. Hermione, who knew she should try to eat something but couldn't stomach the thought, distractedly pushed the food around her plate until Lucius decided that he was in far too good of a mood to bear the silence a moment longer.

"So, how are we traveling to the Ministry, Severus?" he asked, turning towards the sullen wizard. "Apparition?"

She looked up in time to see the professor shake his head and, for the first time that morning, she realized that his hair, like the older pure-blood's, was tied back at the nape of his neck. She couldn't remember ever seeing him wear it that way before and she thought it made him look rather dashing. Upon further scrutiny, she noticed that he wasn't sporting his normal teaching robes either. While still black, of course, his current attire seemed more regal somehow, perhaps made of a finer material, and there was a subtle sheen to the fabric, which had delicate black embroidery shot through with silver running around the collar and down the front. The bloody bastard had changed into formal robes while she was stuck wearing the same clothes that she had worn the day before! She scowled and looked back down at her food as he began to speak.

"I think the Floo Network would be the wisest choice. Security measures have been upgraded since the last time you visited the Ministry. The public Apparition site is several blocks away now and I have no patience to be trawling through Muggle London this morning." Severus' eyes darted quickly to the oddly reticent witch then back again. "Besides, when's the last time you Apparated?"

Lucius thought for a moment. "Quite a while, actually. A year and a half, maybe. That whole determination part is a bit tricky when you can hardly even stand without falling."

"Mmm, all the more reason not to attempt it this morning. Do you still have Floo clearance?"

"Interestingly enough, I do," the blond replied with a chuckle. "Apparently, being a fugitive from Azkaban wasn't enough cause to revoke my connection."

" _Apparently_ your so-called charitable contributions were larger than I assumed."

The wealthy socialite smirked. "That's entirely possible."

Hermione looked up again, drawn this time to Lucius. She desperately wanted to ask how he planned on waltzing into the Auror-packed Ministry if he was still considered a fugitive, not to mention a publicized Death Eater, but she kept her mouth shut. She had caused far too much damage as it was this weekend by speaking her mind. Her goal now was steer clear of any and all impertinent questions and attempt to simply fade into the background.

"So, we'll Floo," Severus continued, unaware of the girl's internal curiosity. "That way we can at least guarantee that we'll all arrive in one piece. You won't make much of a witness if you Splinch yourself."

The pure-blood sat up a bit straighter, holding his chin high. "Malfoys _never_ Splinch."

The other wizard snorted. "And Snapes never believe a word that Malfoys say, especially since I've had to Apparate you myself on more than one drunken occasion."

Draco chuckled, having witnessed at least one instance of that himself, but the Head Girl rolled her eyes and pushed her plate away. Yesterday, she would have found the men's banter humorous but today, it only turned her already sour stomach.

"Not hungry, Hermione?" Lucius asked solicitously, ignoring his friend's slanderous, albeit true, jibe.

She shook her head and tried her best to smile. "I'm afraid that I don't have much of an appetite this morning." Her traitorous eyes darted towards the professor and she found him staring at her with a blank, almost bored expression. Bugger. Her stomach churned again as she forced herself to look away.

"Well, why don't we move into the library, then?" the blond suggested. "It's a far more comfortable place to wait. How long do we have now, Severus?"

"Twenty minutes, give or take," he estimated without consulting his watch.

"Very good. Shall we, then?"

The question was posed to the entire table in general but the Potions Master was the first to nod and stand up from his chair. He strode silently out of the dining room, his tailored robes allowing less of a billowing effect than usual, without a second glance at his tablemates.

Lucius sighed and gave the witch an apologetic smile as he stood up as well. It was regretful and nearly embarrassing that his friend was such an inexperienced oaf when it came to the fairer sex. He was growing quite fond of the little Gryffindor but how she could put up with such behavior was beyond him. If his dear wife was still alive, she would've smacked Severus upside the head with something heavy by now. "Come along, you two," he said as he passed behind the adolescents. "There's little point in delaying the inevitable." Flipping his hair, despite the fact that it was tied back, the pure-blood strolled off in the direction of his wayward comrade.

"Lucius?" Hermione squeaked before he had made it through the doorway, unable to keep the desperation out of her tone. He was her last beacon of hope in deciphering the other man's maelstrom of emotions. She had a million questions that needed answers but she couldn't seem to get another syllable out. Fortunately, the pain in her voice apparently needed no explanation.

The wizard turned and smiled warmly at her. "Don't lose faith, my dear. Some rocks require a bit more effort to make them shine. I'm afraid some wizards are the same way." Without explaining that rather odd analogy, he winked and left the room.

She frowned at the back of his pin-striped business robes until the doors had closed behind him. With a loud disgruntled sigh, she folded her arms on the table and dropped her head into their shelter. She heard the boy beside her get up from his chair but was perfectly content to spend the remainder of her time at Malfoy Manor in the solitude of the dining room.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Granger," Draco said in exasperation, "must you be such a stereotypical, whining Gryffindor? You nearly had me convinced last night that you had some Slytherin in your veins." He shook his head. "Must have been the pajamas."

Hermione growled, though the effect was ruined by her close proximity with the sleeves of her school robes. "Sod off, Malfoy. Can't you just leave me to suffer in peace?"

"No."

With another irritable sigh, she pushed herself back from the table, purposely smacking the wizard with her chair, and stood up to face him. "What the hell do you want from me?"

He rolled his eyes at her theatrics. "I want you to stop being such a dramatic bint, march your curly-headed arse into the library, and confront my bloody godfather."

"Why? So you can all sit around and have a good laugh at the foolish Gryffindor?" she spat. She was starting to seriously suspect that that was their cumulative goal.

"Of course not, you batty cow!"

Her arms flailed helplessly at her sides. "Then why do you care?"

"Because he's upset, you're obviously miserable, and frankly, both of you are getting on my damn nerves!" he shouted back. Apparently raising his voice was the only way to get through to the stubborn girl.

Anger flared in her eyes. "And what do you expect me to do about that?"

"Tell him how you feel, damn it. Stand up for yourself like you did last night."

His words stung like she had been punched in the gut. Hermione's shoulders slumped and she leaned on the back of her chair for support. "I tried, Draco. I gave it my best shot. He doesn't want me." She blinked back the resentful tears. "What do you suggest I do? Tie him to the bed until he agrees to shag me?"

"As _intriguing_ as that idea sounds, Miss Granger, we do have business to attend to."

She spun around at the sound of the familiar silky voice and her jaw dropped when she found the Potions Master standing in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest and an amused smirk tugging at the corners of his thin lips.

Before her heart could sputter back to life, he spoke again. "Draco, your father wants to speak with you."

"Of course," the blond replied with a grin.

And just like that, the Muggle-born found herself alone with the tall, dark-haired wizard, without even being given the opportunity to accuse the Slytherin Head Boy of setting her up. She couldn't be sure that that's what had happened, but it was entirely likely. The whole blasted lot of them were completely untrustworthy. She scowled at the back of Draco's head as he turned the corner and disappeared from view.

"Lucius was under the impression that you wanted to speak to me," Severus said quietly when the girl's frustrated scowl centered on him in turn. It was obvious that she was angry with him but the snippet of argument that he had inadvertently overheard had made it clear that her feelings hadn't been entirely altered by his inexcusable behavior the previous night. He suddenly felt quite nervous as to how to proceed. Having her yell at him again would be easier to endure than the heavy silence that hung between them now.

"Is this all some sort of elaborate joke?" Hermione snapped, having finally regained control over her thoughts. "Do you all get together on the weekends and drive some unsuspecting witch to madness just for the sake of your own amusement?"

He grimaced. Perhaps yelling wasn't the best alternative. "Of course not. Don't be absurd."

"Absurd?" she repeated incredulously. "What the hell am I supposed to make of it?"

"Of what, exactly?" he asked calmly, his eyes dancing.

"Of this whole bloody weekend!" she exclaimed. "Of Lucius playing philanthropic match-maker to the poor Muggle-born, of Draco being a total prat one minute then trying to be my best girlfriend the next, of you running me around in dizzying circles..." She huffed and threw her hands up in defeat. "I'm done. You win. I don't want to play anymore."

Severus opened and closed his mouth, making several attempts at a response before managing anything coherent. "I can't speak for Lucius or Draco, but I, for one, have no desire or intention of upsetting you any further."

"Then why didn't you come back last night?" she demanded, angry tears blurring her eyes. She swiped her hand at them furiously, refusing to let him see her cry.

"It was very late and I don't believe that either of us were thinking very clearly. I thought it best to return to my own chambers," he explained quietly, grimacing at how lame the excuse sounded even to his own ears. In reality, he had lain awake for the better part of the night, conflicted between the desire to run at a full sprint back to her room and the nagging voice of reason that told him to put an end to it all then and there. After barely two hours of restless sleep, he had finally made up his mind, though it had pained him in ways he hadn't believed were still possible. He was going to call the whole sordid thing off, but then she had walked into breakfast, acting for all the world as if nothing had transpired between them, and all his decisions had flown out the sun-filled window.

"And you couldn't be bothered to inform me of that decision?"

He met her turbulent gaze, feeling utterly ashamed of his actions, whether wrong or right, and more than a bit irritated with the little witch's ability to make him feel that way. "I'm sorry, I—"

A loud chiming noise suddenly issued from somewhere on the wizard's person, cutting off his apology. "Of all the buggered timing," he muttered under his breath as he reached into his robes for his pocket watch.

Hermione waited for him to silence the interruption before smiling sadly at the Potions Master, feeling a bit humbled. In the grand scheme of things, her petty emotional turmoil wasn't what was important here. It was amazing how quickly she had lost sight of that fact. "It appears that congratulations are in order, Professor."

"Mmm," Severus mumbled, shoving the nuisance back into his pocket. "For you as well. That is, of course, if you're still intending on going through with today's proceedings." His brow rose in question. Salazar, how he hoped she'd say yes. "I'll understand if you've changed your mind. I can take you back to the castle, if you prefer."

The Gryffindor immediately felt vulnerable and unsure again as she peered up at the wizard owlishly. She was nearly positive that she was going to have a nervous breakdown after this weekend was over. No one could suffer through so many mood swings and retain their sanity. "I still want to be your apprentice," she said quietly," but only if you're still _willingly_ offering the position, not because you feel obligated after last night. Same goes for the potion."

He frowned. "I believe that I've already made my opinions on both those matters quite clear. They haven't changed."

Hermione nodded and forced herself to take the opening presented to her, consequences be damned. "What about your opinion on the other matter? Has that changed?"

Severus stood perfectly still for a moment, wishing that he was better at these things than he was, before swallowing his pride and apprehension and stepping towards the witch hesitantly. He closed the gap between them in only three strides but did so slowly, so as to give her the chance to flee if she wanted to. To his surprise and immense relief, she didn't move as he approached. Her eyes never left his during the short but excruciating journey and the all-too-tangible emotions in her chocolate orbs served as an uncommon reminder that the gutsy lioness possessed just as much masked vulnerability as he did. Perhaps in some bizarre, twisted way, they really were compatible.

When he was close enough to touch her, he did just that, drawing one of her delicate hands into his much larger ones and ever-so-gently kissing the top of her knuckles.

The small gesture was innocent and nearly chivalrous in action but profoundly demonstrative in emotion. Hermione felt her heart stop for the second time that morning as his warm lips grazed across her skin. It didn't start again until he began to speak, his voice low and silky.

"I'd be a complete fool to refuse anything that you offer, Hermione."

For some reason, after all the upheaval that morning, she found his statement incredibly funny. "Again, you mean?" she asked with a cheeky grin — the first real one she had managed all morning.

The wizard's lips twitched as he rubbed small circles on the top of her hand with a calloused thumb. "I'm afraid that I'm no stranger to mistakes."

Her smile widened. "Well, it's fortunate then that I'm in such a forgiving mood."

"Remarkable, really," Severus replied, staring deeply into the warmth of her eyes. He wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and reacquaint himself with her succulent lips but Lucius' advice still weighed heavily on his mind.

It was undeniable now that he wanted this woman for more than merely a means of slaking his desire. His friend had been right all along, he did fancy the petite Muggle-born and he hadn't a clue what to do about it. One thing he did know, however, was how to be patient — his unavoidable position as a spy had cemented that trait, which had been instilled in his first Potions class. If self-control and patience was what was required to make this improbable relationship work then, by gods, he'd be a pillar of forbearance.

With another chaste kiss to her knuckles, he dropped the witch's hand softly. "We should get back to the others. It's never wise to leave the Malfoys to their own devices for very long."

Basking in the surreal feeling that was left by the abrupt departure of all of her recent worries, Hermione grinned. "That sounds like sage advice."

He smirked and led her towards the door with the lightest of touches on her back. "More like words of warning learned the hard way."

Lucius and Draco were talking quietly when the pair strode into the library. Twin blond heads turned in unison as the Head Girl and the professor approached them, each with a glimmer in their eye that had been noticeably absent minutes before. The eldest Malfoy beamed and laid his hand on the dark-haired man's shoulder when he came to stand next to him. "Alright, Severus?"

The Potions Master scowled at his meddling friend and refused to dignify his question with a response. Instead, he addressed the more pressing matter at hand. "We've surpassed the twenty-four hour mark."

"Have we now?" the pure-blood asked with a grin. "And you see, I'm still standing. May I officially congratulate you now?"

"If you must."

Lucius laughed. "You're entirely too humble, Severus. Perhaps a celebratory drink instead. Do you think you could suffer through that much, dear friend?" Without waiting for a response, the Lord of the Manor summoned Popkins, who, prompt as always, arrived a moment later toting a tray of crystal tumblers and a bottle of Firewhisky.

The appearance of the house-elf only served as an embarrassing reminder of her untimely visit the previous night and heat flamed on Hermione's cheeks when the wrinkly creature handed her a glass. Snape was apparently thinking the same thing because when she glanced up, he was studying her with an almost taunting smirk. The color on her face intensified and she quickly looked away.

Draco bumped her shoulder as the elf Disapparated. "Bring back pleasant memories, Granger?"

She scowled at the grinning blond. "Reminds me that I'm still angry with you."

"Well, no worries then. Anger is what you and I do best."

The witch rolled her eyes but smiled. She was in too much of a good mood to be bothered by the boy's attempt to rile her. "I suppose it's only to be expected when dealing with a Slytherin prat."

"And a Gryffindor shrew," he retorted, raising his empty glass towards her in a mock salute.

They shared a laugh until Lucius called to them to join Snape and himself by the fire. As the group formed a small circle in front of the hearth, the patriarch filled everyone's glasses. "I'd like to make another quick toast, if you'll indulge me." They all raised their crystal tumblers.

"First and foremost to Severus and Hermione's sheer, unquestionable brilliance," the blond began in a serious tone. "Without the two of you, I'd be facing a very dim future indeed. I can only imagine what further wonders you'll be able to create together." He tipped his glass to each of them with a smile. "Next, we must recognize the true star of these festivities and that, of course, would be me." He took a small bow.

"I should've known that you'd turn this all about yourself," Severus muttered with a shake of his head.

The pure-blood preened. "Well, of course. Look at me. I'm simply marvelous!"

The professor's responding cough sounded suspiciously like an insult that may or may not have contained the name Lockhart and his apprentice giggled.

"In conclusion," Lucius said loudly, pressing on with his impromptu speech as if he hadn't been interrupted, "I believe we should toast to the trials and tribulations that have gotten us to where we are now and to the new life chapters that await us all."

Hermione smiled at the dark wizard across from her. Now that she was certain that he wouldn't turn it down, she had every intention of offering him a lead role in her next chapter, possibly in the entire book, if things went well. Distracted by visions of the future, she raised her glass and clinked it with the others before downing the beverage in one gulp.

She gasped and sputtered as the alcohol burnt her nose and blazed its way down her throat. How the hell had she forgotten what was in that glass? Of all the stupid things to do. She grimaced and gingerly sat the tumbler on the nearby end table amongst several indistinguishable masculine snickers.

"Forgive me, Hermione," Lucius said sincerely, despite his grin. "It's been quite a while since we've had a woman in the house. Next time, we shall toast with something a bit more palatable."

She shook her head but her refusal of special treatment was cut off by her classmate's snide suggestion that she _stop being such a girl._

"Now, now, Draco" the boy's father chided. "I believe that _some of us_ are rather partial to Miss Granger's femininity."

Hermione would have laughed at the look exchanged between the two ex-Death Eaters at that comment if she hadn't been afraid that flames might shoot out her mouth. Honestly, how could anyone enjoy such a foul drink?

"Perhaps we should get this show on the road at some point," Severus proposed through clenched teeth. He had yet to become entirely comfortable with the idea of him and the witch being involved in whatever it was that they were involved in. Hearing Lucius joke about it in mixed company was a bit too much for him to handle affably.

"Right you are," the blond replied, taking the hint. No sense in pushing the volatile man too much in one sitting. He glided over to the hearth and took the silver box from the mantel. Opening the lid, he held the Floo powder out to the curly-haired Muggleborn. "Ladies first."

Before Hermione's outstretched hand could make contact with the sparkly dust, Snape grabbed her sleeve and pulled her arm back. "You should go first, Lucius," he said, ignoring the girl's curious expression. He dropped her arm. "Miss Granger has a tendency to wander and I'd hate to have to chase her around the Ministry." His dark eyes glittered with amusement when they met her rather contentious ones.

The pure-blood chuckled. "Very well, then. Come along, Draco." He handed the canister to the Potions Master, took a pinch of powder for himself and threw it into the fire. Grabbing his serpent-topped cane, he gave the couple one last smirk before disappearing into the flames.

Surprisingly enough, Draco followed suit without comment and as the fire regained its orange hue, Hermione found herself alone in the professor's presence once more. Their eyes met again and for a moment, neither of them spoke, equally unsure of what to say. Out of sheer nervousness, she stuck her hands into the outer pockets of her robes and then grinned slyly.

Severus was on the verge of asking the woman what that particularly suspicious smile was about when she stepped closer to him and held out a small piece of paper. With an arched eyebrow, he glanced down to be greeted by a tiny version of the witch before him. Surprised, he looked up again. "What exactly is this?"

The grin spread across her face like a dangerously beautiful wildfire. "It's a photograph."

He scowled. "Yes, I'm aware of that. I was looking for more of an explanation as to why you were giving it me and where it came from."

"Draco took it last night to document my _Slytherinization_ , as he dubbed it. Probably for blackmail purposes at later date, as well, knowing him," she replied, stepping in even closer. "I just thought that you might like to have it as a memento of sorts. Perhaps one day you can say 'I spent the weekend at Malfoy Manor and all I got was this lousy picture.'" She chuckled at her own joke even though the wizard looked completely confused.

"Excuse me?"

Hermione shook her head. "Never mind. Stupid Muggle reference. You don't have to keep it if you don't want to." She made to take the snapshot back but he pulled it away.

"I believe I'll hold onto it for a while. Never can tell when I might need some blackmail material myself," he said with a wicked smirk.

She giggled again and reached into the container in his hand for a pinch of Floo powder. "I'm pretty sure that you have far better means of coercion at your disposal than that," she said in a suggestive tone, then stood up on her toes and kissed the surprised man square on the mouth. She waited for him to reciprocate before withdrawing, tossing the magical dust into the hearth and stepping into the swirling emerald flames.

Severus watched the witch's form evaporate into nothingness then glanced down at the picture in his hand once again. The projected image blew him a kiss. He swallowed thickly and tucked the photograph into his robes for safekeeping, wondering if he'd ever cease being surprised by the little Gryffindor. Probably not, but oddly enough, that didn't bother him in the least. After years of having to constantly anticipate the unexpected and scrutinize every nuisance of the world around him just to keep himself alive, the former spy was slowly learning to embrace the unknown. With a small but nonetheless present smile, the wizard stepped into the Floo and made his way to the Ministry.


	18. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

The major benefit of Floo travel, despite the dust and dizziness, was speed. Within seconds of leaving Malfoy Manor, the Ministry grate came into view and an invisible force shoved Hermione from behind, effectively tossing the Gryffindor out of the swirling flames. She managed to stay upright — an impressive feat — but nearly knocked over half a dozen people in the process. An elderly witch wearing a hideous fur stole glared at her before walking away, muttering to herself about the decline of today's youth.

The Head Girl attempted to apologize to the old bat but something grabbed her by the arm and jerked her away from the line of Floos before she could get the words out.

"Come on, Granger," Draco said loudly, having witnessed her disgraceful arrival. "I thought we discussed you _not_ embarrassing us today."

Hermione's sarcastic reply was lost to the deafening roar of the jam-packed atrium. Having never been to the Ministry during a weekday rush, she hadn't been prepared for it to be so busy. She was jostled and bumped by all manner of wizarding folk as they hurried off towards their various destinations. She had never been a fan of large crowds and found that after the not-so-distant war, her dislike had increased tenfold. The noise hurt her ears and the suffocating amount of bodies made her feel slightly nauseated. She could handle the sensations well enough at school since she more or less knew everyone, but here, amongst the countless strangers, her nerves were already starting to frazzle.

Looking ahead, she watched as the crowd swayed back and forth, separating and converging again as it moved, revealing brief glances of the new decorative fountain at the end of the atrium. The abstract stonework, which she had only seen in photographs before now, had been installed a few months prior to honor of all the people who had fallen during Voldemort's reign of terror. The committee in charge of the statue had invited her, Harry and Ron to the dedication ceremony, but Harry had politely declined for all three of them. He had had no interest in gaining any more publicity after the war and the idea of returning to the scene of his confrontation with the megalomaniac in their fifth year hadn't really appealed to anyone.

As she and Draco progressed through the sea of people, Hermione spotted the eldest Malfoy standing in front of the memorial. His back was to them, his shoulders squared and his cane held in the crook of his arm. From her perspective, the pure-blood appeared to be staring down his nose at the large plaque on the base of the statue and she wondered how he felt, reading the names of all the people who had died fighting against his former master. Did he feel guilty for participating in the atrocity that left hundreds of names engraved in that stone? He had apologized for the abuse he had heaped on her and her friends and the prejudice he had held against her blood status. But did he regret all of his actions and prejudices while a Death Eater or simply those aimed at her personally because she had helped to save him?

"I found one of them, Father," Draco announced, interrupting her thoughts as they came to a stop in front of the fountain.

When the older man turned towards them, his aristocratic features were set in an icy sneer. For the briefest moment, the Muggle-born felt a thrill of fear run through her as she faced the evil wizard that had starred in her nightmares since she was twelve years old. She took an unconscious half a step back, nearly bumping into several passersby.

Pulled from his reverie, Lucius' dark expression melted back into a pleasant smile though his eyes remained distant. "Did Severus get lost?"

Distracted by the wizard's rapid change in demeanor, it took a second for his question to sink in. She mentally shook herself. Of course the former Death Eater felt guilt and probably shame for his past choices. They had cost him his wife and very nearly his own life. She returned his smile and turned back to look towards the row of glowing hearths. "He was right behind me."

She spotted the Potions Master almost immediately. He was sporting his trademark murderous glare as he stalked through the crowd, witches and wizards shrinking from his presence on either side. She had been right about his tendency to chase people away and seeing that theory in action now brought a warmth of satisfaction to her chest. It felt good to be right but it felt even better that she was amongst the privileged few that had been allowed to see another side of the obstinate man.

"Still make an impressive entrance, I see," Lucius commented once Snape had reached them. The wizard's eyes sparkled in response as he herded the small party towards the alcove that housed the visitor's desk at the very end of the atrium. Thankfully, despite the crowded atrium, there didn't seem to be a line.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please surrender your wands for registration," the stationed guard requested in a bored, automatic tone as they approached.

Snape extracted his ebony wand and laid it on the counter. "Severus Snape, visiting the Potions Patent and Apprenticeship Offices."

Since they had bypassed this particular procedure the one and only other time she'd visited the Ministry, Hermione watched curiously as the harried-looking wizard passed a long golden rod in front of the professor and placed his wand on a brass tray that was emitting a strange whirring sound. After a moment, the noisy little device dinged and spit out a narrow strip of paper, which the guard removed and read from.

"Black mahogany, Ashwinder blood core, been in use twenty-five years. Is that correct, sir?"

Her eyes widened slightly when Severus nodded in confirmation. She was well aware of their age difference, of course, but hearing that the wizard she fancied had been in possession of his wand for longer than she had been alive was a bit unsettling. Did that fact deter her feelings? Not in the least, but it did conjure rather amusing images of a raven-haired, gangly little eleven year old scowling impatiently as Ollivander chose which combination would suit the future Potions Master the best.

She hid the resulting chuckle behind her hand as he completed his exchange with the watchwizard and collected his wand and visitor's pass. Draco went next and then it was her turn. She gave the guard her name and destination, pulled her wand from her robes and laid it in his outstretched hand.

After a moment the whirling machine dinged again. "Vine wood, dragon heartstring core, been in use seven years?"

"Yes, sir," she replied, trying to ignore the resulting twitch from the man standing directly behind her. Apparently, the mention of their age difference hadn't been lost on him either. Nothing could be done for it, really. Little reminders were going to pop up on occasion. She stepped off to the side to allow Lucius to approach the desk.

Despite all that had transpired since, Hermione still remembered her concerns from breakfast and turned to watch as the pure-blood withdrew his wand from the top of his cane and held it out to the guard. Visions of Aurors descending upon them en masse floated through her mind but the watchwizard simply waved off the offering. "No need, Mr. Malfoy. You're still on the registry."

The blond gave a curt nod and re-sheathed his wand. "Very well. Thank you, Eric."

"Not at all. It's good to see you again," he replied in a way that lead the eavesdropping witch to believe that he had been on the receiving end of more than one Malfoy _contribution_ over the years — a theory which Lucius confirmed by slipping the wizard a handful of silver coins. The guard quickly tucked the generous tip into his pocket then gave the visitors a slightly haggard smile. "Enjoy your stay at the Ministry."

Their business at the visitor's station being thus completed, the group passed through a set of golden gates and joined the long line waiting in front of the series of lifts that provided access to the other levels of the complex. Hermione stood beside her classmate to wait and tried her best to forget the multitude of other people swarming around.

"So, did you two kiss and make up?" Draco asked in a murmur, drawing close next to her so as not to be overheard.

She grinned, thankful for the diversion, but didn't look at him. "You're way more invested in this than I ever suspected you would be."

"Considering who and what we're talking about, it _is_ rather fascinating." The blond ran his fingers through his hair in a dismissive gesture. "You know, in a morbid, 'can't look away from the Dementor attack' sort of way."

Hermione playfully pushed him with her shoulder but she knew he was right. Any way you looked at it, the weekend had been a sordid, twisted little psychodrama. She couldn't really blame him for his interest. "I think we came to an understanding. It's always a bit hard to tell with him. But there was a small kiss. And I gave him one of your pictures."

Pale eyes turned to her in surprise. "Which one?"

"The one that blows kisses."

The Head Boy grinned deviously. "Excellent."

Hermione giggled under her breath and glanced at the two imposing Slytherins who were immersed in their own quiet discussion behind them. Snape met her gaze for a split second and with a delightful twitch of his lips, turned back to his conversation. She turned back in time to see a vacant lift become available and the foursome stepped inside.

Being well-acquainted with Muggle elevators, Hermione did not care for the rickety, chain-clattering magical equivalent at all. She hadn't liked them two years ago and time had not improved her opinion. The fact that the thing only ran on magic, instead of something more tangible, like electricity, gears, and pulleys, was somewhat frightening, in all honesty. Thankfully, as their destination was the very next floor, the ride didn't last long and when they came to a stop, she gratefully followed the men out of the unstable contraption and back onto solid ground.

Since he was spearheading this particular expedition, Severus led the others down the brightly-lit corridor, lined with gleaming wooden doors that hid the various offices from view. Despite the chaos below them, this level of the Ministry was practically deserted and the Head Girl took advantage of the lull to read each of the brass door plaques that they passed.

A tiny bubble of anxiety rose in her throat when they reached the door marked **Potions Patents** but her worry was in vain. With four bare walls, a lone desk and a small group of plastic chairs that served as a waiting area, the stuffy little office was a bit of a disappointment. Typical bureaucracy. Snape wordlessly ushered the group into the uncomfortable seats and then went to speak with the receptionist.

Severus glared disdainfully at the secretary's bowed head when he reached the front desk. Her very appearance — bleached blonde hair and a face full of entirely too much makeup — annoyed him but more infuriating was the fact that the chit was completely ignoring him. She hadn't even looked up as the party had entered the office. When she yawned and turned the page of her magazine, totally oblivious to his looming presence, he sneered darkly. "Madam?"

The blonde looked up, a bit startled by the interruption but otherwise unaffected. "May I help you?"

"I'm here to register a potion," he replied testily, thinking that that should've been blatantly obvious considering what office he was in.

The witch unceremoniously thrust a clipboard and quill into his hands before turning her attention back to her latest copy of _Witch Weekly_. "Fill this out and return it when you're finished."

Draco snickered next to Hermione, who had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing at the professor's icy expression as he turned on his heel and stalked back to the waiting area like a furious black storm cloud. The reception-witch obviously had no clue whom she was disregarding. She surely hadn't ever stepped foot in Hogwarts.

"Quite the fanfare you receive here, Severus," Lucius commented snidely as his friend sat down. He received an irritated glare for his efforts before the wizard focused on the parchment in his hand.

Hermione angled herself in the plastic chair so that she could read over Snape's shoulder, letting the foot dangling from her crossed legs brush ever so lightly against his shin. She wanted to watch him fill out the form, of course, but also hoped that the seemingly innocent contact would help chase away some of the tension that was so evident in his rigid posture and clenched jaw.

Keeping his head bowed, Severus glanced at the witch out the corner of his eye and her impish little grin made him instantly forget his earlier agitation. "Comfortable?" he murmured, resisting the unusual impulse to smile.

She caught the hint of amusement in his tone as he repeated the words he had used the previous night when she had stretched out at his side. "Very," she replied in turn, her grin widening when she saw the corner of his mouth twitch. Mission accomplished. Inch by inch, she was slowly learning how to handle this irascible man.

Snape turned back to his task and as her eyes followed his quill down the paper, Hermione's thoughts began to drift again. Seeing him list the potion's ingredients brought her back to the hours she had spent in the professor's private lab, listening intently as he described each component and the reasons for its use in that silky voice that could make her knees melt. She realized now that those hours had been the beginning of the end, so to speak. Before assisting him that first morning, she had been attracted to him and undeniably intrigued by the mystery that was and always will be Severus Snape, but after watching him brew, hearing him speak so masterfully and with such veiled enthusiasm, and being given just the briefest glimpse of the level of compassion he possessed, she had been well and truly enamored. It had been the tentative start to the feelings that had come full circle in the past day and a half.

Without her notice, Severus completed the patent request form. All that was left was his apprentice's signature at the bottom. He turned to place the clipboard in the witch's hands but found her focus elsewhere, her eyes glazed over. His first impulse, naturally, was to snap at her but given all that had recently transpired, he chanced a different tactic.

Lowering his voice to its most velvety purr, he murmured into her hair. "While I prefer it to my classroom, this is hardly the place for daydreaming."

Hermione was jarred back to reality and her cheeks felt instantly warm. The possessor of the voice of seduction stood up and handed her the clipboard and quill. Embarrassed by the effect he had had on her, she looked down at the parchment in her hands — gods, she really had lost focus — and quickly scanned the lines that she had missed.

When she got three-fourths of the way down the page, her brow crinkled for a moment and she peered up at the Potions Master. "Cruciatus Vomica Domintor?" she asked, having reached the line asking for the potion's formal title. "...Curse Conqueror?" It was certainly a fitting name, if a bit on the nose.

Severus gave her a single nod, not surprised in the least at the girl's translation abilities, then watched as she signed her name in the precise, tiny handwriting he had come to recognize over the years. When she met his eyes a second time, an infusion of pride was evident on her features. He took a moment to soak up her enthusiasm, to revel in it, before taking the clipboard from her hands and walking back to the desk at the front of the room.

The receptionist was still steadily ignoring the visitors as she filled out a quiz in the back of her magazine. Snape peered over the desk and sneered at the hot pink letters that posed the question, _"Is Your Wizard_ MAGICAL _Between the Sheets?"_ Resisting the urge to incinerate the insipid periodical, he cleared his throat loudly.

The witch yawned against the back of her hand, showing off a set of ridiculously long, red fingernails, and looked up. "Yes, sir?"

With a look of utter loathing, he thrust the clipboard in her direction. "I've completed your form."

Unimpressed, the woman removed the parchment and carelessly set it on top of a teetering stack of similar forms in her in-box. "Thank you for your submission. A representative from the Potions Patent Office will contact you within five business days for a review."

Severus shook his head before she had a chance to pretend he wasn't there again. "I'd like to meet with the Patent Board as soon as possible. Is the chairman in now?"

The garish blonde stared up at him blankly for a moment, unsure how to respond since he had deviated from the usual protocol. She blinked several times before replying. "Yes, sir, he is, but the waiting period to present to the Board is two weeks _after_ your submission has been reviewed." She pulled an open ledger towards her, attempting to get the conversation back on track. "I can schedule an appointment for you if you wish."

Snape scowled at the witch's apparent inability to comprehend his words. "No, madam, I do not wish to make an appointment. If I did, I would've requested one." He placed both palms on the edge of the desk and leaned in slightly, casting an ominous shadow over her excessively painted face. "What I _need_ is to speak with the chairman — _Now_!"

The receptionist frowned at the rude wizard but her waspish reply died prematurely on her tongue. Something in his cold eyes told her that this was not a man to mess with. Reacting on pure instinct, she stood up and grabbed his request form, causing the rest of the pile to scatter across her desk and flitter aimlessly to the floor, before practically sprinting into the safety of the adjoining office.

Severus breathed a sigh of satisfaction as the impudent chit disappeared in a flurry of bleached ringlets. It had been like drilling through a brick wall with a plastic spoon but he had finally gotten through, and victory, even in small measures, was sweet.

"Always the charmer," Lucius commented dryly from across the room, causing his son to snicker. Hermione tried not to laugh this time so as not to encourage the dark man. He could be such a bully. The fact that she was attracted to him, even when he behaved as such, was too distressing to analyze at the moment.

The professor ignored the group completely as he cupped his hands behind his back to await the arrival he knew was forthcoming. And sure enough, within moments, a short, balding wizard in Ministry robes emerged from the same door that the witch had fled into.

"Snape! How have you been?" the chairman asked boisterously, extending his hand to the taller wizard. It was quite obvious to the onlookers that this man would not be repeating his receptionist's mistakes.

"I'm well, Adolpho. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

The man laughed loudly, a chuckle that made his round stomach jiggle like a bowl of gelatin being prodded with a fork. "How could I not? You frightened my poor secretary half to death."

The Slytherin smiled darkly. "Then I've done you a favor. Might I suggest that you hire someone more competent in her stead?"

"Ah, Tabitha is a good sort of girl. She's still a bit new, though, and unaccustomed to dealing with some of our more prominent masters," Adolpho replied, unabashedly stroking his client's ego. "But that's neither here nor there, really. The main reason I was roused from my mid-morning tea is that the request form she threw at me seemed to suggest that you've made a remarkable discovery." His watery eyes glinted. "Tell me, does it really work?"

Snape crossed his arms over his chest and gave the man a smug, self-satisfied smirk. "Of course it does. Why else would I be here?"

The chairman grinned in a way that made Hermione instantly dislike him. From her vantage point, it was a greedy sort of smile that made it quite clear that he was only interested in how the potion could benefit him personally. His next words all but confirmed that impression. "A creation of this magnitude will be quite the feather in the department's cap. Ridiculously lucrative for you, too, I'm sure. Are you prepared to present it today?"

Severus nodded. "I take it that we won't have to wait two weeks like that insolent witch suggested?"

Adolpho gave another great, belly-shaking chuckle. "Of course not. We will need to arrange for a test subject to be transferred from St. Mungo's, though, and I'm sure that the entire board will want to be present." He consulted the silver watch that was clinging precariously to his massive wrist. "It's ten-thirty now. Would two o'clock work for you?"

"That should be fine. We have some other matters to attend to in the meantime."

The chairman glanced over at the waiting area, taking note of the odd trio of companions the Potions Master had brought with him. Lucius Malfoy was instantly recognizable but his beady gaze lingered on the curly-haired witch the longest. "Yes, about this _we_ ," he drawled, turning a curious eye back to Snape. "Who is this Hermione Granger? You've never collaborated with anyone before."

"Miss Granger is my apprentice. She played an instrumental role in the potion's creation," he replied, trying to appear indifferent. There was no denying that this was the first time in his twenty-some-odd years of registering potions that he had ever shared credit with another person, but due to the extenuating circumstances surrounding their partnership, he was less than eager to discuss the sudden change.

"Indeed?" the balding wizard asked, looking back at the young woman again. "I've never known you to take on an apprentice, Snape."

The Slytherin scowled. "And I've never known you to be so meddlesome, Adolpho."

He laughed brashly. "Still, she must be quite _special_ to garner such an uncommon honor. I seem to remember more than a few qualified wizards being rejected by you in the past."

"She's a brilliant witch and quite deserving of the position, I assure you," he replied, a ghost of a sneer crossing his features. He didn't care for the gleam in the rotund man's eyes or his insinuation one bit.

Hermione couldn't help but blush at the professor's words of praise and at the fact that he was, in essence, defending her honor. Draco, of course, caught her embarrassment and elbowed her with a smirk. "Better write that down, Granger. It's probably the last time you'll ever hear him admit it." With a grin, she shushed the blond so that they could hear the rest of the men's conversation.

"Which brings up my second point of business," Severus continued, eager now to be done with this treacherous line of discussion. "I need a patent certificate to file with the Apprenticeship Office and I had hoped to secure one _before_ the presentation."

Adolpho looked decidedly worried at this request. "As you're well aware, the board must approve all potions before a certificate is granted." The taller wizard leaned forward, wordlessly stretching the thin line between intimidation and actual threat and the chairman was quick to respond. "But for you, I suppose I can flex the rules. With your record, there is little doubt that your creation will be a success." He cleared his throat nervously. "I'll go ahead and issue you a certificate now and just follow up with the Apprenticeship Office once registration is complete."

Severus smiled in satisfaction. It was a rather chilling smile, like one might see if the man had just cornered a group of wayward Gryffindors out of their rooms after hours. "I knew that I kept acquaintances such as you for a reason."

The chairman laughed, somewhat less exuberantly than before, and excused himself to get the requested paperwork. He could technically lose his job for doing this, but he had known Severus Snape for a very long time and trusted two things with certainty: One, if the man said his potion worked, then it bloody-well worked, and two, the intense wizard was not someone to be refused. And seeing as Snape was in the company of a man rumored to have been in You-Know-Who's inner circle, he wasn't about to test that knowledge over such a trivial matter.

Retrieving the necessary parchment from his desk, Adolpho quickly filled it out and returned to the impatient Potions Master. "Here you are," he said, holding out the official document. "That should take care of it for you. If there are any problems, tell them to contact me directly."

Severus took the certificate, gave it a quick once over, folded it in half and slipped it into his robes. "Thank you, Adolpho. I appreciate your assistance."

The balding man smiled in obvious relief and shook the professor's hand. "Not a problem. I look forward to seeing your presentation this afternoon. I think downstairs would be wise."

The Slytherin nodded in agreement before striding back across the small office. He motioned towards the others with a jerk of his head then opened the glass door and disappeared through it, expecting them to follow. A moment later, they found him waiting in the hallway, looking immensely pleased with himself.

"That seemed to go well," Lucius drawled.

Severus started down the corridor. "I had little doubt that it would. He owes a sizable chunk of his salary to my discoveries over the years."

"Doesn't hurt that he was more than a little intimidated by you."

"It rarely does," Snape smugly replied before switching topics. "Miss Granger and I need to go upstairs to attend to her apprenticeship paperwork. I see no need for you and Draco to suffer through that tedium."

"Thanks for sparing us," the blond said with a smirk.

"May I assume that you can find something to occupy your time?"

At this, the older Slytherin chuckled dryly. "Yes, I'm sure we'll be perfectly fine. It's been quite a while since I've been back here and I do believe that a few of my old associates are long overdue for a visit."

Hermione heard her classmate sigh at this announcement. He obviously didn't fancy touring the Ministry with his father, no doubt a guise to further spread around the Malfoy wealth. She glanced at Draco but nothing more was said until they reached the lifts.

"Shall we meet for lunch before the presentation?" Lucius asked as he pressed the call button. "Will you be long?"

Severus shook his head. "Hopefully not. As long as we meet no resistance, we should be finished in an hour or so. How about the Leaky Cauldron?"

The pure-blood made a face. "My first meal out of the manor in nearly two years and you suggest that hole-in-the-wall? There must be a dozen four-star restaurants within Floo range."

"It's just a quick lunch, Lucius, not a night out on the town. We need to be back here by one-thirty."

"Fine," the blond said with a bit of a scowl, obviously dissatisfied, just as the lift arrived. "The _Greasy_ Cauldron it is." He and Draco stepped inside. "Good-bye until then."

Severus nodded and for some reason, Hermione raised her hand to wave, like she was six and her daddy was going off to work. She saw the Head Boy's mocking smirk before they disappeared from view and she quickly dropped her hand. The wizard at her side made a noise that sounded suspiciously like suppressed laughter as he reached out to press the call button again. She glanced at him from under her lashes.

"It seems that we are alone again," he said quietly, meeting her not-so-covert gaze, but before she had a chance to respond, a door opened down the hall and the sound of wafting voices invaded their privacy. "Or not," he muttered as a group of wizards emerged from the open office and turned in their direction.

By the time the next lift arrived, there was a healthy-sized queue waiting. The men, obviously from the Quidditch department judging by their attire, nodded politely to them but otherwise kept to themselves as everyone boarded and prepared for the undoubtedly bumpy ride. The strangers got off on the next floor without so much as a second glance at the other occupants.

As the contraption reluctantly shuddered to life again, Hermione glanced up at the dark-haired Potions Master. "So, what were you saying about us being alone again?" She desperately wanted him to kiss her. She could kiss him, of course — she had proven that just that morning — but wanted him to take the initiative. She wanted him to sweep her up like he had the night before.

Severus turned to look at the witch straight on. Her eyes were sparkling and she flashed him a most impish little grin. She was one hell of a distraction. His lips twitched into a semblance of a smile and he reached out to ghost a single long finger down the velvety soft flesh of her cheek. "I merely thought it odd to have found so many occasions to be alone without the needed pretense of detention."

The Gryffindor's answering giggle was abruptly cut off by the ethereal voice announcing their destination. "Level one: Administration Offices, Department of Maintenance, and Apprenticeship Offices."

Side-stepping the flurry of purple paper airplanes that were clamoring to enter the lift, the pair started down yet another empty corridor. Hermione was beginning to seriously wonder if anyone actually worked in the Ministry and where, exactly, the horde of people from the atrium had disappeared to, but shrugged the question off as they made their way down the hallway. Though he hadn't seized her and passionately kissed her as she had wished, she did notice that Snape was purposely shortening his strides so that she could comfortably walk at his side. These small concessions to his normal behavior for her benefit, she knew, were wildly demonstrative for the rigidly reserved wizard. She smiled and slipped her hand around his arm as she had the night before. Despite being in a highly public locale, he did not shrug out of the connection.

They had just passed the large ostentatious doors of the Minister of Magic's office when a door opened a few paces ahead and none other than Percy Weasley emerged. He was dressed in a set of crisp business robes, his red hair slicked back in a decidedly fussy manner, and was studiously reading a stack of parchment in his hand. Hermione immediately dropped her arm back to her side and put a bit more distance between herself and the professor.

Though bereft of the loss of contact, Severus mentally praised the witch's understanding of their situation and foresight. It would not do to have anyone, this wizard especially, suspect anything more between them than what was befitting their separate roles. He did briefly wonder if she had been so quick to return to the illusion of mere student because this particular intrusion was a member of the Weasley clan and kin to two of her irksomely close friends. When it became clear that the wizard wasn't going to look up, however, those thoughts were forgotten and Severus cleared his throat loudly to keep the ginger from walking straight into them.

Percy looked up sharply at the noise and his eyes widened behind his horn-rimmed glasses as he came to an immediate stop. "Professor Snape!" he exclaimed, his surprise warring with his usual self-important tone. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't see you there. How are you?"

The Potions Master glared at the man who obviously hadn't changed much from the brownnosing boy he had taught for seven years. "I'd be better if people weren't trying to run me down."

The witch snickered, drawing the redhead's attention to her presence for the first time. His blue eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at this point. "Hermione! What are you doing here?"

She opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by the wizard at her side. "Miss Granger and I are in a hurry, Mr. Weasley. Perhaps the two of you can stage a Gryffindor reunion at a later date."

Hermione nearly laughed again at the flustered look on Percy's pink, freckled face. The professor had an uncanny ability to reduce anyone to an abashed first-year with little more than a dark expression and a veiled insult. She was glad that, for once, this quasi-evil super power wasn't directed towards her.

"Yes, sir. Of course," Percy very nearly squeaked before regaining his composure. "I have lots to get on with as well." He held up the official-looking documents in his hand as if to prove his claim. "It was, er, nice to see you again."

"Good day, Mr. Weasley," Severus replied as he walked away. Hermione shot the former Head Boy a quick smile before following after the brusque wizard.

Percy's brow wrinkled in confusion as he watched the oddly-matched pair progress down the hallway side by side. He was certainly curious as to what would bring a Hogwarts' professor and student to the Ministry on a school day and even briefly considered owling his youngest brother to ask what the Head Girl was up to, but one glance at the time-sensitive reports in his hand had him scurrying off in the opposite direction. By the time he reached Minister Shacklebolt's office, the Undersecretary had all but forgotten about the strange encounter.

Hermione didn't reclaim the Potion Master's arm, even after assured that the corridor was once again empty except for the two of them. Stumbling across one of Ron's brothers, of all people, had been unnerving. What if Percy had spotted her clutching his former professor's robes? What if he had suspected something untoward and owled Ron or Ginny about it? As utterly thrilled as she was by her and Snape's budding romantic relationship, she wasn't at all prepared to have her friends find out about it yet, especially from an outside source. She would have to channel Moody's constant decree and be more vigilant.

The pair, spaced only as close as propriety allowed, passed another half-dozen opaque glass doors before they reached one marked **Apprenticeship Office**. This was the part of their excursion that Hermione had been looking most forward to and felt the most confident about — she _deserved_ this distinction, by gods — but as Severus reached to open the door, a nagging little voice in her head told her to turn and run, that she would be crazy to commit to private tutelage under this man. It wasn't surprising that the voice sounded a lot like Harry's. When the professor held the door open and politely gestured for her to enter first, however, Hermione smacked her pathetically fledgling courage into submission and confidently strode into the room.

The tiny office was just as drab and uninspiring as the other had been, more so even, seeing how its only features were a long counter and two closed doors. The receptionist, however, was a vast improvement, she noted, as he smiled in greeting. He was a young, handsome wizard, whose dark brown hair and flawless olive complexion looked vaguely familiar. His dazzling smile widened when Snape stepped into the office behind her.

"Professor Snape! Good to see you again!"

"Hello, Mr. Doreez," the older man replied as they approached the counter. He extended his hand to his former pupil. "I didn't realize that you were working for the Ministry."

"Yes, sir. I'm a floater. The regular clerk went on maternity leave, so I'm filling in for a few weeks."

Severus smirked. The first time he met the boy's predecessor a few months ago, he had reduced her to tears — a reaction he'd elicited from more than one pregnant woman in his time. "Well, it's good to know that they have at least one competent person working around this gods forsaken place."

The receptionist smiled again, well enough accustomed to the professor's personality to recognize the compliment for what it was, before glancing curiously at the attractive witch at his side.

Snape, having seen the boy's focus drift, turned towards his companion to make the perfunctory introductions. "Miss Granger, this is Connor Doreez. He graduated four years ago from Slytherin."

Hermione smiled cordially. The men's affable greeting had gone a long way to setting her nerves at ease. It did not surprise her to learn that the handsome wizard had been a Slytherin. Snape was rarely this pleasant with anyone from any other house, in her experience anyhow. "Nice to meet you. I think I remember seeing you around school."

"Really? When did you graduate?" he asked, studying the curly-haired girl more intently. She couldn't be more than a year or two younger than him but he was certain that he would've remembered meeting her if he had. He wasn't one to forget such a pretty face.

"Oh, I haven't yet," she replied. "I'm in my last year now. Gryffindor."

Connor's hazel eyes widened as the realization finally sunk in. "You're _Hermione_ Granger, Harry Potter's friend, aren't you?"

Severus grimaced. Was this what his life was going to be from now on? Being constantly reminded that he was courting the blasted Boy-Who-Lived's best friend? And by one of his own, no less. The idea left a strong distaste in his mouth.

"Yes, that's me," Hermione replied, ignoring the older wizard's expression. She had been known as Harry's brainy sidekick since she was twelve years old. It didn't even faze her now.

"Wow, you've certainly grown up since I was at Hogwarts and the pictures in the _Daily Prophet_ scarcely do you justice," Connor said, smiling flirtatiously. Having a celebrated war hero like her on his arm would be wildly advantageous to both his career and his social status and the Slytherin couldn't help but be tempted by those prospects. He turned on the charm. "It's _very_ nice to properly meet you, Hermione."

Severus sneered at the wizard as an intense wave of jealousy pulsed through him. All it took was that one smile, brilliant in all its toothy whiteness and all-too-transparent in its intent, to wake the possessive force that had been hibernating deep within his chest. It was the same ornery beast that had snarled at Lucius' superfluous flattery the day before, and now, in the face of this boy's pathetic come-on, was demanding that he make it known just _whose_ witch the boy was messing with.

The problem with that irrational line of thinking was that she wasn't _his_ witch, not in that context anyway, and she'd be more likely to hex him than allow him to treat her like she was. Severus knew that liberal-minded women — Gryffindors, especially — like her didn't respond well to possessiveness or jealousy. The thought of her reaction was the only thing that kept him from drawing his wand and blasting the cocky smile right off the wizard's face.

The younger man felt the inexplicably cold glare coming from his Head of House and immediately gave him his undivided attention. "So, what brings you here today, Professor?"

"We need to meet with Madam Avery as quickly as possible this morning," he replied tightly, schooling his features once again.

"Okay. Let's see what she has available." The receptionist scanned the open appointment book in front of him. "I can squeeze you in in about twenty minutes. Will that be soon enough?" He was eager to make up for whatever it was that had suddenly upset the dark wizard. Seven years under his tutelage had earned the young Slytherin a healthy fear of Snape's infamous wrath.

"If that's the soonest opening she has, then it will have to do."

Knowing that that was the best response he was going to receive, Connor penciled in the names before looking up questioningly. "May I tell her what your visit is pertaining to?"

"Miss Granger needs to complete the paperwork for her Potions apprenticeship."

"Oh," the wizard replied, barely disguising his surprise. It was a well-known fact that Snape _never_ took on apprentices. One of his Housemates had all but begged for the opportunity in their seventh year and had been turned down flat. His eyes darted to the Gryffindor witch again, wondering what she had done to acquire such a sought after position, but when he heard the professor clear his throat, his focus snapped back to the man. "Very well. I'll let Madam Avery know that you're here. Would you care to take a seat in the waiting room?"

"Yes. Thank you, Mr. Doreez," Severus replied in a falsely civil tone.

Connor nodded and circled around the counter, anxious to get the pair out of sight before he managed to incense the disgruntled man any further. He quickly showed them to the adjoining waiting area, which was little more than a glorified broom cupboard with several folding chairs and a wobbly table that held a stack of expired magazines. "I'll let you know as soon as Madam Avery is ready for you," he promised before shutting the door behind him.

Hermione, who hadn't been privy to the emotional complexities of the wizards' exchange, sat in one of the poorly padded chairs and smiled when Snape took the seat right next to her. Now that they were alone again, this time for a predetermined length of time, there were about a million things that she wanted to talk about. The truth was, despite their more physical demonstratives, they didn't really know each other all that much. They had been student and teacher for seven years, along with comrades in arms during the war, but outside of their bizarre tête-à-tête the previous evening, they hadn't had many discussions of a non-academic nature.

Turning towards him, she worried her bottom lip for a moment as she tried to prioritize her questions, knowing that her constant and often discombobulated curiosity irritated the man. Organization would be key.

Severus smirked at the witch's nervous little habit, his earlier ire petering out as he remembered pondering that selfsame abused lip the night before. He cast a quick Muffliato charm to ensure their privacy before tucking his wand back up his sleeve. "Out with it, woman. You've been unusually quiet all morning and I can practically see the onslaught of questions pouring out your ears."

Warmth spread across her cheeks as she glowered at him. The fact that he could decipher her body language so well was almost as annoying as it was endearing. The slight upturn of his mouth tipped the scale in his favor and enticed the initial question from her lips. "What's going to be expected of me in there?" she asked, pointing towards the closed door. "It seems like the Ministry would need to somehow verify that applicants are at a certain skill level before allowing them to become an apprentice." A sensible first question. Despite his previous assurances, she was still worried that this Madam Avery woman would ask her to brew something on the spur of the moment or submit to a pop quiz. Not that she couldn't handle either, mind you, she'd just prefer to know about it beforehand if possible.

"They do," he replied, somewhat surprised at her practical choice of topic, "but that's up to the master to determine. I've already vouched for your competency and with a patent under your belt," he patted the certificate inside his robes, "no one will be able to dispute it."

"May I?" she asked, not waiting for a reply before sliding her hand into the breast of his robes to reach for the folded parchment. She felt his breathing halt and met his fathomless gaze as she removed the paper from his person. This was all so new, every touch still so foreign that even the most casual of actions caused a flare of heat between them.

Slightly embarrassed by her brashness, Hermione sat back and unfolded the certificate. She read over the official form and grazed her fingertips across the embossed seal, a small smile gracing her lips. She still wasn't entirely sure that her small contribution had earned her such a distinction but she felt proud nonetheless to see her name listed beneath Snape's in an official capacity.

Severus watched his apprentice's reaction closely as she read the patent certificate. He had been slightly unnerved when her small hand had snaked beneath his robes to retrieve it. He wasn't used to anyone taking such liberties with him, especially not anyone of the female persuasion. Those thoughts, however, were pushed aside as the witch's eyes, in all their sparkly glory, turned towards him again.

"Who was your Potions Master?" Hermione asked, realizing she had never heard him mention who he had mentored under.

"I didn't have one," he replied, glancing away from her distracting gaze. "I'm self-taught, for the most part, though I did benefit from the knowledge of several powerful witches and wizards over the years."

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "Really? I didn't know that you could become an accredited master without submitting to an apprenticeship. I never saw that option mentioned anywhere."

"It's certainly possible. You have to submit to rigorous testing and be able to claim ownership of no less than ten original potions," Severus explained, confident she was merely curious and was not considering the alternative for herself. "There are very few people who choose to take that route because of the level of difficulty, but in my situation at the time, it was necessary." He unconsciously rubbed his left forearm where the Dark Mark had once been burned.

Being a force of habit, he didn't notice the gesture, but Hermione did and immediately understood what it meant. Her mouth compressed into a tight line. There was no denying that the wizard had some pretty bleak shadows in his past. She didn't mind, really — there were more than enough good deeds to redeem the bad in her opinion — but she knew he wouldn't be exactly candid with details of that phase of his life. "What type of potions did you submit?" she asked, figuring it was an innocuous enough follow up question.

The Potions Master swallowed. "Mostly unpleasant, dark magic of the Dark Lord's bidding. Killed two birds with one stone."

The Head Girl grimaced, more at his bluntness than the revelation. She briefly considered apologizing for bringing the subject up or offering some sort of platitude but rejected both ideas. He wasn't the type to appreciate either. Instead she refolded the patent certificate, slid it back into his interior breast pocket and let her hand rest on his chest for a half a second longer than was strictly necessary.

Severus met the witch's eyes in the movement and was taken aback by the resolute absolution within their depths. She seemed to forgive him of every sin as soon as she heard tale of it. Foolish girl. He tried to scowl but there was no grit behind it. Her clemency was such a novelty and it warmed the void where his heart should've been.

"So, um," she started, unsure how to phrase her next question but too interested not to try. "Is dating forbidden between an apprentice and master?"

A pink tinge crept unbidden across the sharp lines of his cheek bones. The sight was so unexpected that it made Hermione giggle. Despite his obvious embarrassment, the wizard's left eyebrow rose in question, which only served to make her laugh harder.

"What precisely is so hilarious?"

Hermione swallowed the last of her chuckle. "I'm sorry, Severus, but you are incredibly adorable when you blush. It took me quite by surprise."

The former Death Eater scowled, feeling utterly scandalized. "I assure you, witch, nothing about me is now nor ever has been _adorable._ " The last word was repeated with unquestionable disdain.

She snorted in dissent. "I reserve the right to respectfully disagree."

Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, remembering just how unarmed he was against the power that this impudent girl so efficiently wielded over him. He could recall no one who had ever gotten into his head or under his skin so effortlessly. And certainly no one who had simultaneously made either pervasive act so damned enjoyable.

"So is it?" Hermione asked, setting them back on topic. "Is it forbidden or against the rules for us to be doing _this_?" She waved her hand back and forth between them to indicate what she meant.

"No," he replied, exceedingly glad he didn't blush again at her intimation. "It's not encouraged, of course, but not prohibited either. From what I gather, it happens more often than one would assume. Apprenticeships require a large amount of time working closely together and human nature does tend to run rampant in such private settings."

She smiled brilliantly. "Yes, it does." It had taken less than two months of so-called detentions for her to fall for her master and she hadn't even known she was an apprentice yet. She could hardly imagine what the next few years held in store for them.

"As you can imagine, a fair few apprenticeships have been dissolved before completion because of irreconcilable differences in the more intimate relations," Severus said pointedly. Should their courting end up a disastrous mistake, it would prove highly difficult to continue forward with her tutelage. He wanted her to understand that fact and her choices regarding the risk. "And, of course, intermingling between students and professors _is_ forbidden."

Hermione's smile faltered, but only slightly. She wasn't concerned with personal issues interfering with her apprenticeship. Yes, it was a possibility — a strong one considering what an unmitigated arse Snape could be — but it would happen whether or not she worried about it. She had enough to focus on at the present to fear things that had yet to happen. It was his second statement that bothered her. "It is _not_ against any official Hogwarts rules. It may be frowned upon but since I am well beyond the age of wizarding consent, it isn't illegal. As long as my marks in your class are not unfairly affected, which we both know won't be happening, we are technically doing nothing wrong."

"How can you possibly know that?" he asked in surprise. That information was purposely kept from the student body, for obvious reasons. The girl had been too young at the time to know of the scandal that that imbecile Lockhart had caused during his term as defense professor.

"You shouldn't ask questions that you already know the answers to," she said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "I read. A lot. The policy, while quite obscured in arcane language, is in the school handbook and _Hogwarts, A History_ gives several accounts of such romances, if you know how to read between the lines."

Severus shook his head, utterly astounded by the witch's voracity. "Do you tackle every situation like you do your homework?"

Hermione scowled and silently vowed to hex him if he called her an insufferable know-it-all. "If you're asking if I value a little research over impetuous decisions and sloppy guesswork, then the answer is yes. I did not look into the rules of intimate relations in apprenticeships, however, because until last night, I hadn't even a hope of mentoring under you."

He smirked, thinking of her surprise at that revelation and his equal surprise at learning of her perverse interest. He draped his arm over the back of her chair and leaned down to murmur in her ear. "Tell me, in your _research_ , did you happen to discover the fact that Salazar Slytherin himself married a pupil?"

Her eyes widened dramatically as she turned to stare at the wizard, for the moment oblivious to how very close he was. "What? Are you serious?" That little gem certainly hadn't been mentioned in her favorite reference book, inferred or otherwise.

The professor's lips twitched as he watched the witch's face positively glow with the excitement of learning something new. That type of enthusiasm was one of the few aspects of teaching that he truly enjoyed and one of the main things that he had been looking forward to during her apprenticeship — before this latest development, of course. Now there were many, many highly enjoyable things to anticipate.

"They were bonded right before he left the school. I'm sure it was omitted from the history books on purpose. A bit scandalous for that time — for any time, really," he replied, not being able to stop himself from winding one of the honeyed curls that had fallen over his splayed arm around his finger. Her hair, as unruly as it was, seemed to have a magnetic pull all its own.

"That's amazing!" Hermione exclaimed, ignorant of his current fascination. "Where did you—"

Severus suddenly closed the minute distance between them and recaptured her incessant mouth, unable to resist a moment longer. He had thought to make it a chaste kiss, recalling Lucius' advise, but as it did the night before, his control crumbled to dust as soon the connection was made. It was only an added benefit that the action immediately shut the witch up in the process. He grinned as the rest of her question was lost against his lips.

Hermione's heart raced at thrilling speeds as he instigated a kiss for the first time that day. Gods, how she had missed his lips and his passion. She slipped a hand beneath his plait of hair to cup his neck and when he tried to pull away, as she knew he would, she didn't let him go so easily. She held him tight and continued to ply the wizard's warm mouth with lavish attention, undaunted by his periodic half-hearted objections, until the sound of approaching footsteps issued from outside the waiting room door. With lightening quick reflexes borne from experiences that she'd rather soon forget, Hermione removed her hand from the wizard and spun quickly in her chair a mere second before the door swung open and the reception-wizard stuck his head in. Despite the situation, the former spy was rather impressed by her reaction time.

Connor's eyes widened at the sight of the flushed pair. It was quite obvious that he had just interrupted something and judging by their close proximity, it wasn't hard to guess what. That knowledge didn't, however, make it any easier to believe or even comprehend. He swallowed rather nervously. "Er, Professor Snape? Madam Avery is ready to see you now."

Severus had been wrong earlier that morning. Gravely wrong. He did not like surprises _at all._ Embarrassed to the point of mortification, the dark wizard stood and silently followed the younger man out the door. He had no doubt that his former student had seen enough to formulate a more or less accurate assumption of what had been transpiring in the waiting room. He sneered darkly at the back of the Slytherin's head as he lead them back to the lobby and through the room's other door.

Hermione trailed after the two wizards down a short hallway, embarrassed but more so concerned. Severus was angry, so angry that there seemed to be rage rolling off his long frame with every step he took in front of her. She was no stranger to the man's ire but was worried that he might hex the younger wizard within an inch of his life for possibly witnessing something so private. Slytherin or not, Connor had just unknowingly landed himself on the top of the professor's hit list. Trying to avoid the confrontation she could feel building, she did the only thing she could think of and grabbed a hold of Snape's forearm to pull him into the open office they had just been led to.

Victoria Avery proved to be quite a pleasant, elderly woman, who greeted both guests warmly and invited them to take a seat. As she sat down next to the Potions Master, Hermione was pleased to see that his countenance had relaxed somewhat since they had entered or at least he had slammed his masks into place. Either was preferable to the previous lividity.

"So, I finally get to meet the famous Miss Granger," Madam Avery doted, her eyes possessing a twinkle that could've rivaled Dumbledore's. "I've met with Master Snape several times over the past few months and all he's done is sing your praises, dearie."

Hermione smiled and felt her cheeks color for the hundredth time that morning. She was immensely grateful when the witch simply chuckled at her reaction and began to sift through the file on her desk instead of elaborating. It was one thing for Severus to compliment her himself, even as begrudgingly as he usually did, but something else entirely to hear it from a third party. It wasn't the first time it had become evident that he had been _singing her praises_ but it was still a fairly new departure for them.

"Well, most of your paperwork is already in order. I just need your signature on a few things," Madam Avery continued, handing the Gryffindor several documents to be initialed and signed as she detailed the various components and requirements of a Ministry-sanctified apprenticeship. At the end of her explanation, she gave the girl an itemized total of the hours she had already completed along with a list of the conditions she'd have to meet in order to qualify for a master's degree.

While his student perused the registry of bogus detentions she had served with him, Severus handed the older woman the patent certificate he had obtained earlier. Madam Avery's green eyes sparkled as she read the embossed parchment. "This is quite impressive, Miss Granger. Not many apprentices have their names registered on a potion so early in their career and I can't remember a single instance of the product being so remarkable."

Hermione beamed. "Thank you. Professor Snape is a very good teacher."

"Which is precisely why we've been trying to talk him into taking on an apprentice for years," the witch replied, looking pointedly at the Potions Master and chuckling at his resulting glower. He was one tough cookie. "You should count yourself quite lucky."

Hermione turned to Severus as well, who subsequently blanched at their dual attention. Lucky was putting things mildly considering all she had been put through to get to this point. He was lucky too — damn lucky he still had use of all his facilities. She smirked before casting her eyes back to the parchment in her lap.

Once all the paperwork was signed and back in its proper folder, Madam Avery extracted a small black case from her desk drawer and handed it to the younger woman. Not knowing what to expect, Hermione carefully opened the box and then grinned when she saw the tiny silver lapel pin inside. It was in the shape of a crossed wand and pestle suspended over a mortar — the international symbol of Potions mastership — with the word "Discipula" engraved on the bowl. She quickly removed the pin and fastened it to her robes above where her Head Girl badge usually resided.

"That makes it official, Miss Granger. You're a fully registered apprentice. Congratulations."

The witch's replying smile was dazzling. She couldn't believe this was actually happening. All her planning during the odd quiet moments she had scavenged before, during, and after the war had led her here. Her decision to delve deeper into Potions instead of any of her other multitude of varied choices hadn't been an immediate or easy one. Once on that course though, after applying to every advanced program and reputable master she had come across in her research, the most notorious of Potions Masters had elected, of his own free will, to offer her a position. It was nearly incomprehensible and suddenly quite humbling.

"Thank you," she murmured quietly, modest tears sparkling in her eyes.

The woman nodded and smiled kindly at the young witch. "Well, unless there's something else that I can do for you, I do have other appointments to keep."

Severus stood and held out his hand. "No, I believe that's all we require today, Victoria. I appreciate your assistance with these unconventional circumstances."

Her responding shake of the head was echoed by mirthful eyes. She had broken protocol by recording hours for an apprentice that wasn't technically registered but had earned a large bonus for signing a master of Snape's caliber and had consoled herself all the way to Gringotts for bending the rules. Though he'd kept the reasons for the unorthodox situation to himself, it all seemed to be resolved now and the girl appeared to be just as pleased with the partnership as he was, if a bit more enthusiastic. In the end, it was pretty safe to say that she had made the right choice to trust the wizard's unexplained discretion. "No problem at all, Snape. I'm glad everything worked out satisfactorily."

Hermione shook the older witch's hand next, already wondering how the obvious deviation from normal procedure had been explained. Snape had played so many games to pull off what should've been quite straightforward. Insufferable man. "Thank you again, Madam Avery. It was very nice to meet you."

"And you as well, dearie. Keep up the good work."

Once out of the office, the Potions Master and his newly-confirmed apprentice quickly made their way back down the short hallway. When they reached the lobby, though, Severus stopped at the reception desk and laid both palms flat upon the laminated wood. He still had a rather urgent matter to take care of and a potential disaster to extinguish. Fortunately, the Head of House possessed a highly organized mental catalog of every indiscretion his charges had ever committed over the years and this particular boy had had a rather colorful record.

Connor looked up, met the wizard's intimidating gaze and tried his best to smile. "I trust everything went well, Professor?"

"February twelfth, your fourth year," Snape replied in a low hiss that couldn't be misconstrued as anything but a threat. He pinned the wide-eyed boy with a meaningful dark glare then added, "I never forget, Mr. Doreez," before turning and stalking out of the office with a flourish of tailored robes that still didn't quite live up to his trademark billow. Caught off guard by the entire exchange, Hermione chased after the wizard without so much as a parting glance.

When the door shut behind the cute little witch, Connor let out a shaky sigh and slumped into his chair. With the sting of Snape's warning still fresh in his mind — a warning that with five little words had cemented his decision to _never_ share his suspicions with anyone — he was seriously considering going home sick after lunch. After the morning he had had, he was somewhat fearful of what the afternoon might bring.

Back in the hallway, Severus slowed his pace to allow the petite witch to catch up and then remain comfortably at his side. Contrary to his current demeanor, he wasn't upset with _her_ in the slightest. None of what had just transpired was her fault and it had not slipped his mind during the confrontation that a celebration was still in order. He felt oddly proud as he glanced over at the new badge pinned high on the girl's chest. It was a distinction for him as much as it was for her. He brushed his fingers against hers in a teasing game of catch and release as they walked, the action hidden by the black fabric of both their robes. "Congratulations, Hermione," he said quietly, unaccustomed to using her first name, especially in a public place.

She peered up at him with a smile, caught his long fingers and squeezed them before letting go. "Thank you and to you as well."

"Me?" he asked with a sardonic grin. "I don't know that congratulations are in order. Condolences, perhaps."

She chuckled. He could play the martyr all he wanted; he wasn't fooling anyone. "Oh, I think congratulations, to be sure, for making such a wise choice in pupils." She chuckled softly again when she heard him mutter under his breath. There was a certain fondness attached to the words _cheeky witch_ that she rather liked.

For privacy's sake, she refrained from asking about the curious exchange between Snape and the receptionist until they had reached the empty vestibule in front of the lifts. "So," she began, drawing the wizard's dark eyes to her own, "what was that all about?"

"What was _what_ all about?" Severus asked, feigning ignorance as he pushed the call button.

"What you said back in the Apprenticeship Office, to the reception-wizard. It sounded like a threat."

"It was," he replied in a tone that clearly implied that the details weren't open for discussion. He wasn't about to divulge House secrets to anyone, even her, unless forced to in order to protect his own. Yes, it had been a threat but not one that he had made lightly.

"So, you think he suspected something," she deduced as a telltale jingling announced the imminent arrival of their mechanical carriage.

"It's entirely possible. It wasn't exactly difficult to deduce what was going on." He placed a pale hand on her back and guided her towards the vacant lift as the grille slid open.

"And you're sure he won't say anything?" she asked as the lift shuddered and began its descent. She wasn't even ready for her closest friends to know about her and Snape; she certainly didn't want it to become front page gossip in the _Daily Prophet._ Rita Skeeter, the horrid cow, would have a field day with such a thing.

"I am," Severus replied, mirroring her thoughts. "Had he not been from my House or not been prone to occasional, catastrophic lapses in judgment, I wouldn't have been able to offer the same level of certainty."

In the quaking vibration of the lift's downfall, Hermione sighed and rested her temple against the wizard's shoulder, breathing in his unmistakable scent. "Remind me to never get on your bad side, Severus."

He snorted and placed an uncharacteristic and surprisingly gentle kiss on the top of her curls. "You've been on my bad side since your very first Potions class, witch, and look where it's gotten us."

* * *

A/N: Forgive the Latin. I know it's butchered. I couldn't even find the original source that I used to come up with the potion's name, but I'm leaving it as it is. _Vomica Domintor_ has been this story and this potion's title since its creative inception over a decade ago.


	19. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

The ride back down to the lobby was entirely too short in Hermione's opinion, despite her earlier dislike of their mode of transportation. After everything she had been through lately — the emotional upheaval, the surprises, both pleasant and not, and the constant string of worry and confusion — she wished that she could have a few more moments like this, to simply lean against the wizard's shoulder, forget about anything beyond those steel walls and enjoy the elated emotions coursing through her veins.

She was a Potions apprentice — something that she had been working towards, however indirectly, for years — and she was... _involved_ , for lack of a better word, with Severus Snape — something that she had been fantasizing about and strategizing for weeks. Didn't those accomplishments deserve a little introspection, mental celebration, and most importantly of all, time to adjust? She thought it damn well qualified.

In spite of what may or may not have been entitled the pair, the world moved on and the lift spluttered its way to a stop before either of them was ready for it to. Hermione heard a lamentable sigh echo from the wizard when she raised her head and took two steps away from him in an effort to maintain their masquerade. She looked over at him as the gate began to open but his cold and aloof masks were already firmly in place. As soon as he was able, he stalked off through the opening, sneering at the encroaching crowd that had invaded their peaceful solitude.

The atrium proved to be just as ridiculously busy as it had been earlier in the day except this time the mass was flooding _out_ of the Ministry to begin their lunch hour. Hermione followed after Snape in the direction of the Floo Network and tried her best to keep up with the dark-haired wizard. In his agitation he had resumed his long gait and between that and the surplus of less-than-courteous people pushing her from every side, she got separated from him before she had even passed the memorial fountain. When she realized that the swishing robes in front of her did not, in fact, belong to the Potions Master, she stopped sharply and spun around in alarm. Being a good six inches shorter than the average Ministry occupant, though, she really couldn't see anything beyond the immediate mass that surrounded her.

It wasn't that she couldn't find her way to the massive fireplace grates on her own or even that she didn't want to be separated from the older Slytherin. The problem was that she was suddenly all alone in a sea of unfamiliar faces without a tether to sanity. Her ears began to ring violently and nausea rose up in her throat once again. She gulped at the stagnant air that felt inconceivably laden with sweat, smoke and blood. She slumped down heavily on the low wall that formed the perimeter of the atrium statue, worrying that she'd start hyperventilating at any moment. A Muggle doctor would have probably diagnosed her symptoms as post-traumatic stress disorder. The wizarding world didn't really have an equivalent malady but she knew that most everyone who had participated in the final battle suffered from some scar or another. This was apparently hers.

Thankfully, before the Gryffindor had time to become too overcome by past sights and sounds, her knight in shining black armor came to her rescue once again. She could've cried in relief when she saw his scowling face circling back toward her. Never had his dark countenance appeared so bloody welcoming.

"Already trying to slip away from me, I see," Severus whispered in jest when he reached the witch. He was taken back, however, when he took in her disheveled state. Her face was pallid, her wet eyes barely concealed obvious panic, and her curls virtually crackled with anxiety. He frowned and stooped to speak to her over the din. "Are you unwell?"

She looked up into his concerned gaze and shook her head. "Crowds," she whispered more weakly than she wanted to. "I don't deal so well with crowds since…" She blinked and a single tear fell down her cheek. Damnit, she hadn't wanted this to happen — hadn't expected it to happen. She had experienced the distressing sensations a few times since the war but never to this extreme. She must look like a fool.

The former Death Eater instantly understood the problem. She obviously hadn't made it through the Dark Lord's reign as unscathed as he had previously assumed. In that moment, he wanted to scoop up the vulnerable girl, hold her close to his chest and Apparate them both far away from the ruckus that was causing her such distress, but he knew that wasn't an option. Instead he covertly wiped the tear from her face with a callused thumb, stood to full height, and held out his arm.

Hermione took the proffered contact without question, needing the stabilizing comfort more than she needed to keep her autonomy at the moment. She focused on the wizard's strength and her own breathing as she allowed him to pull her up and lead her through the undulating crowd.

They joined the massive queue on the right hand side of the vestibule and Severus didn't release the witch's embrace despite the curious glances they were inspiring. He sneered darkly at the noisy sod in front of them until the man blanched and resolutely turned his gaze away. With his free hand he lightly touched his apprentice's fingers that were wrapped tightly around his bicep and quietly instructed her, his voice purposely calm and sure. "Deep breaths. In and out."

She nodded and did as he suggested. It helped a bit, her heart rate was beginning to settle, but she still felt an oppressive need to vomit. Snape watched her intently and must have noticed her continual distress.

"Look up, Miss Granger," the professor ordered in a tone she was familiar with from so many Potions lessons, one that brooked no argument or refusal. "I want you to tell me what you see."

Hermione, not sure what the man was on about but obeying him nonetheless, cast her eyes to the ceiling and to the magical golden symbols that floated across its peacock blue surface. Some of them she recognized as Rune characters, while others were completely foreign. Tracking several of the more familiar ciphers, she was able to make out whole phrases, promoting things like good fortune, harmony, success, and protection. She spoke aloud each idiom as it came to her, her voice becoming steadier with each translation.

Immersed in the constantly changing patterns on the ceiling, she didn't realize that the line in front of them had dwindled until she was roused by the wizard clearing his throat and touching her fingers again. She met his gaze and his lips twitched almost imperceptibly.

"Better?" he asked quietly.

The Head Girl took stock of herself. Her breathing and pulse had returned to its normal rhythm. The ringing in her ears had ceased and she no longer felt sick to her stomach, only ravenously hungry. She smiled. He had distracted her from her own anxiety by giving her an assignment. He knew her well enough to know that if she focused on a task, she'd ignore everything else in order to accomplish it. Intolerably brilliant man. She could kiss him.

Circumstances being what they were, she gave his arm a light squeeze before letting it go. "Yes. Thank you."

He nodded and held out his hand to her, an odd green disc in his palm. It somewhat resembled a Muggle vitamin and Hermione hadn't a clue what to make of it. She glanced up with an arched brow.

Severus smirked at her inquisitive expression and leaned in close to explain over the noise that still pervaded the atrium. "It's a Floo tablet. Go to the Leaky Cauldron. I'll be right behind you."

She turned the curious little pill over in her hand and then experimentally tossed it into the hearth. She was instantly rewarded with sparks of emerald flame. With an impressed nod, she stepped into the fire, announced her destination and spun out of sight.

A moment later, the curly-haired witch was thrown out of the fireplace in the middle of the familiar wizarding pub. Amidst its lunchtime rush, the restaurant was crowded and noisy but for whatever reason felt far more emotionally manageable than the Ministry had been. She quickly brushed the soot from her clothes then moved away from the hearth to avoid being trampled by the man who was right on her heels. Snape stooped to exit the age-worn bricks, smoothed out his robes, and scanned the dining room. He located the rest of their party in a shadowy corner booth along the far wall before turning to appraise the woman beside him.

Despite the hubbub in the room, she appeared calm and in complete control of her facilities once again. He was pleased to see that his tactic at the Ministry had been a success and his knowledge of her character spot on. Though her anxiety had clearly abated, he still lightly gripped her wrist before guiding her through the labyrinth of crowded tables. It would require a dose of Veritaserum to get him to admit that the act wasn't entirely altruistic.

Draco's amused smirk welcomed the couple before they had made it halfway across the restaurant. Even though he was undoubtedly mocking that fact that their professor was leading her around like an errant child, Hermione smiled in return. After the emotionally jarring episode she had just experienced, his familiar pratty visage was a comfort.

"Have you been waiting long?" Severus asked when they reached the table. He deposited his travel companion next to his godson before taking a seat beside the boy's father.

Lucius smiled and shifted in the booth to allow his friend room. "Not at all. We expected you to be longer, actually. I take it that everything went well."

"There was a delay in trying to Floo — the lines were ridiculous — but everything else went well enough." The Potions Master glanced across the table at his new apprentice and his dark eyes glinted. "I'm now _officially_ saddled with the fact-quoting, hand-waving nuisance that's annoyed me for years."

Hermione tried her best to look offended as she met his amused expression but knew it was unsuccessful. Far from insulted by his taunt, she felt a suffusion of appreciation and warmth towards the sarcastic wizard. In the last hour he had taken her on as an apprentice, kissed her soundly, protected her reputation, and saved her from herself. A few teasing words weren't about to rile her. But he obviously enjoyed goading her and she did enjoy giving as good as she got. "I'm pretty sure that I still wound up with the raw end of the deal."

Lucius chuckled. "I'm inclined to believe that as well."

"I'm personally impressed," Draco said with a wicked grin. "I believe you're the only Gryffindor to _ever_ wish to spend any more time than strictly necessary with the dreaded Professor Snape, let alone commit to _two_ additional years." He faked an overly exaggerated shudder for effect. "Surely it's a record of some sort."

"Oh, don't worry," she replied with a relatively straight face. "I'm only in it for the _fringe benefits_." This comment, delivered in as close to an approximate of her Potions Master's deadpan tone as she could muster, caused both father and son to guffaw loudly. Even the stolid man across from her snorted in derision.

The pub's waitress appeared just then to drop a stack of menus on the end of their table before hurrying off to attend to her other customers. Severus dispersed the laminated parchment and scowled at each of his insolent tablemates in turn. "It's good to know that you, the closest of my personal acquaintances, think so very highly of me. Endearing, really."

Hermione hid her grin behind the proffered menu, but a waft of aroma from the kitchens and an answering rumble from her desperately empty stomach, suddenly and effectively diverted her attention to the list of lunch items in front of her. She felt like she could eat an entire Hippogriff right about now — a Hippogriff with a side of chips, even. She silently weighed the pros and cons between ordering the light meal that was probably expected of a girl her size and the larger, more embarrassing feast that her body was not-so-discreetly demanding. She hadn't eaten a bite at breakfast, as emotionally wretched as she was, and dinner felt so long ago that it might've been a previous lifetime.

"Order anything you want from this rather meager selection, friends," he announced over the buzz of disconnected chatter in the room, looking disdainfully at his own food-splattered menu. "Lunch is on me."

"I always assumed that it would be," Snape replied with a malignant grin. He had meant it when said that he didn't expect compensation for the potion, but he hardly considered lunch to fall under that category. Perhaps he should've agreed to the blond's suggestion of a restaurant with a better pedigree after all.

Hermione stifled a giggle and quickly made her meal decision — halfway between a ladylike snack and a lumberjack smorgasbord, thank you very much — too hungry to refuse the eldest Malfoy's offer. Honestly, she was relieved that the wealthy socialite had decided to treat them because she didn't have a single Knut in her possession at the moment, having left school yesterday with no inkling that she'd end up in London or need money. She mentally vowed to carry the essentials with her from now on, regardless of where she thought she'd be going or how long she might be gone.

Within moments the bar maid returned to take their orders and as they waited for their food — some more impatiently than others — the conversation around the table split down the middle. The two older wizards discussed the Ministry news — i.e. _gossip_ — that Lucius had been privy to that morning while Draco, who had already heard it all firsthand and hadn't been interested then, turned to question his classmate about her apprenticeship.

She happily showed him her new badge and described the short meeting she and the Potions Master had had with Madam Avery, including a recount of the older witch's explanation of the Ministry-sanctioned program. The Slytherin seemed genuinely engaged in what she had to say, even going as far as to ask her to make him a copy of the list of requirements she'd been given once they returned to school. His interest, coupled with the potions discussion they had had a few nights ago in the library, led her to the not-so-surprising conclusion that she and the Head Boy shared some common ambitions.

As their conversation turned to what she hoped to learn under Snape's tutelage, Hermione had to wonder why Draco hadn't petitioned his godfather to take him on as an apprentice instead of her. The boy was a talented brewer — their performance in class had run neck in neck for years — and was unquestionably the Potions Master's favorite pupil, not to mention the fact that they were practically family. She wondered if that was actually the problem. Maybe they were too close to work well together.

Before she had the chance to question him about it, though, the waitress arrived with their food. All coherent thought flew out of her head as her ravenous stomach took immediate precedence. Her meal looked delicious and smelled even better. She couldn't be bothered to wait for anyone else to start or for a similarly polite cue before digging in. She also couldn't help the groan of delight that escaped her lips at the first bite.

Lucius chuckled as he inspected his silverware, haughtily rubbing away imaginary spots with his napkin. "I see your appetite has returned, my dear."

Her cheeks colored slightly as she swallowed. "It was a _huge_ mistake not to eat breakfast this morning, one that I've been regretting all day. I'm starving." She took another, rather unladylike bite.

"Perhaps you should have squirreled away another ration of toast," Severus suggested snidely, referring to the silly offering the woman had presented to him a few days ago. He looked up from his lunch to see her grin around her fork.

Hermione finished the mouthful of glorious food and teasingly asked, "Why, _Professor_ , did you get hungry as well?" His lips twitched in response before he looked away.

They had all tucked into their meals in companionable silence after that. It was obvious that neither pure-blood cared much for the pub fair and viewed it strictly as requisite subsistence to get them through the afternoon's proceedings. Snape wasn't as snobbish, Hermione had been glad to note, and had eaten nearly as heartily as she had. Of course he hadn't been in the best of states at breakfast either.

Towards the end of their allotted lunch time, the men resumed their earlier conversation. Hermione tried to pay attention to their discussion of a rather obscure policy that the Ministry was trying to pass as she continued to eat. Just as she was beginning to finally feel full, Draco elbowed her in the ribs. "Don't those gingers belong to you, Granger?"

She looked up sharply, followed the blond's gaze, and grinned brilliantly when she saw Fred and George entering the pub through the back entrance. Decked out in garish magenta robes embroidered with the triple W insignia of their joke shop, the twins meandered their way through the tables, stopping twice to chat with people along the way, and up to the bar where they conversed with the toothless innkeeper.

Having missed their recent visit to Hogsmeade, Hermione was delighted to see the redheaded wizards. Being Muggle-born, her biological family couldn't fully participate in the magical aspects of her life. They didn't understand, _couldn't_ understand a lot of what she had been through. As such, the Weasleys had been her second family, her _magical_ family, since she was in her third year of school. They had celebrated birthdays and holidays together, had fought in battles together, and had grieved side by side at the multitude of funerals that had been held after the final battle. The infamous prankster twins had become like brothers to her over the years — mischievous, deviant and often irritating brothers, but brothers nonetheless. They had matured fractionally since the days when she had had to run them out of the Gryffindor common room for testing their products on hapless first-years — they at least paid their test victims now — but they were still the liveliest pair she knew. She loved them dearly.

Snape, however, groaned irritably when he saw his former students. "Why is it that I'm surrounded by Weasleys everywhere I go?"

Draco answered what had been meant as a rhetorical question with a smug grin. "Sheer mathematical odds." Lucius snickered into his napkin.

At that, Fred and George turned in unison, as if sensing that they were being talked about, and scanned the busy room. The identical expressions of shocked surprise when they spotted their pseudo-sister and her dining companions were positively priceless. Hermione beamed at them and stood up.

"Excuse me for a minute," she said, looking back at her tablemates. "I just want to say hello."

Severus met her eyes. He didn't really begrudge her time with her friends. She had been in the sole custody of former enemies for two days now and had adapted better than could've been expected. But they did have much to do yet. "Don't be long. We still have a long day ahead of us and an appointment to keep."

She nodded then made her way through the pub's thinning out crowd to the two wizards. Dual pairs of hazel green eyes warily watched her advance, obvious trepidation in their tall, lanky frames. She reached Fred first but he didn't pull her into the bear hug that she had expected.

"Hey, guys," she said cheerfully, unsure why they were eyeing her the way they were.

"Hermione?" George asked uncertainly. "Is that you?"

She frowned. "Of course, it's me. Who else would I be?"

Fred looked her up and down suspiciously. "You look like Hermione but she wouldn't be in London on a school day." He glanced back at the table the witch had just come from. "And she certainly wouldn't be sitting around with a bunch of Slytherins, especially _those_ Slytherins."

"Very funny, guys," she replied, not the slightest bit amused by their little joke. "We had some business at the Ministry today and just stopped in for some lunch."

The twins looked at each other, silently debating the veracity of her claim, then back at her. "No offense, whoever you are, but that's a pretty weak excuse," George said without the slightest hint of jest. "We happen to know Hermione Granger quite well and she'd never have any reason to do such a thing."

"You should have done your homework before trying to impersonate a girl whose favorite pastime actually _is_ homework," Fred warned as both he and his brother made to withdraw their wands.

Hermione scowled, realizing a bit too late how serious they were about their distrust. She hadn't foreseen this sort of reaction from them — from Harry, maybe, but not these two goofballs — and she wasn't quite sure how to respond. "It's me, you prats!" she whispered feverishly when she saw them reach into their robes.

"Yeah, that's exactly what a Polyjuiced flunky would say," Fred replied, glancing surreptitiously at the impostor's table again to confirm that the wizards weren't going to ambush them from behind. "How are we supposed to know that you really are who you're pretending to be?"

The witch stared between the two redheads then over at Snape, who was watching the whole exchange with a guarded expression. She knew if the twins were to try and apprehend her, her tablemates would come to her rescue, which would inevitably result in chaos. Gods, this was proving vastly more complicated than she had ever intended it to be — she had only wanted to say hi, for Merlin's sake. She turned back to the boys and bit her lip, trying to decide the quickest, least invasive way of convincing them that she was, in fact, herself.

A sudden burst of inspiration came to her and she stood up on her toes to whisper into one of the wizard's ears. She had nearly forgotten that she possessed firsthand knowledge of one of the only surefire and relatively unknown ways of telling the twins apart. If this didn't convince them, nothing would.

After a moment, George chuckled and drew back from the witch, a slight blush highlighting his freckled cheeks. He looked at his brother and nodded. "That's her alright."

She grinned victoriously as the tall redhead drew her into a tight hug. While making her Prefect rounds one night in her fifth year, she had come across George in a rather compromising position with a Hufflepuff and had inadvertently gotten an eyeful of far more of the boy than she had _ever_ wanted to, including a heart-shaped birthmark that was normally hidden from the general public. After he was robed and the girl had sprinted back to her dorm in embarrassment, the studious witch had commented on the odd mark. In the strictest of confidence, the Beater had imparted that it was one of the only differences between the otherwise identical twins. She had sworn to never repeat the secret and had had every intention not to — _ever_ — but desperate times called for desperate measures.

George passed the girl off to his brother who, trusting the other wizard implicitly, hugged her just as tightly. "Sorry about that, Hermione, but it did seem rather suspicious," Fred murmured in her ear before kissing her on the cheek and releasing her. "What kind of business could you possibly have with that lot, anyway?"

"And why, exactly, is Snape suddenly sneering at us like we just blew up his Potions lab?" George asked, frowning at the disgruntled man across the pub.

Hermione glanced over her shoulder again and sure enough, Severus now looked as if he was trying to incinerate the twins with nothing more than a glare. It somehow didn't surprise her that he seemed more irritated now than he had when the twins had been on the verge of hexing her. She chuckled softly and turned back around. "I helped Professor Snape with a potion that he designed for Mr. Malfoy," she explained, careful not to say anything that would draw unwanted attention to her atypical familiarity with the older men. "We had to go to the Ministry to register it." There was no way to account for the Potions Master's tumultuous expression so she didn't even try.

Identical auburn eyebrows shot up at precisely the same time. "How the heck did you end up brewing potions with Snarky Incarnate over there?" George asked, clearly mystified.

She giggled at the adage and flashed them her new silver badge. "I took on an apprenticeship with Professor Snape."

"Bloody hell!" Fred exclaimed, bending down to examine the pin more closely. He looked back at his brother and asked, "Are you sure this is _our_ Hermione?"

George grinned a bit sheepishly, blushing again. "She knows about the heart, bro. There aren't too many Death Eaters running around with that sort of confidential and highly classified information."

Fred laughed loudly. "I totally forgot about that night."

"Wish I could," his twin replied. "Not one of my more stellar performances. Kinda knocks the wind out of your sails when someone giggles while your arse is up in the air." He looked accusingly at Hermione. "I never could convince that girl to give me another go."

"If it makes you feel better, I had almost forgotten about it, too," she offered with a grin. It hadn't been easy, but gradually other things finally had eclipsed the event in her mind.

George grimaced and Fred laughed again. "Word to the wise, Hermione. Wizards don't really appreciate being told that their dangly bits didn't make a lasting impression, even by witches they haven't shagged."

"Right," she said, her face growing hot. "Sorry, George. Your, um, package was most impressive. Unforgettable, in fact." Ick, ick, ick.

Both twins grinned proudly at the contrived compliment but before they could respond with mutual agreement — they were _identical_ , after all — the barkeep reappeared, brandishing two large bags of takeaway containers. "Here you are, Messrs. Weasley. Sorry 'bout the wait."

George thanked the bald wizard, took the bulging sacks of food from his outstretched hands and handed one to his brother.

"Hungry, guys?" Hermione asked, gesturing towards the bags. She was immensely thankful for the diversion from their discussion of the wizard's intimate parts.

"Didn't you ever wonder where ickle Ronniekins got his appetite?" Fred replied with a grin. "Percy's to blame for his slovenly table manners, though."

"It's for our staff," the second twin said distractedly, then nodded over her shoulder. "I think that's your cue to leave, 'Mione."

Turning around again, the Head Girl saw her Slytherin escorts getting up from the table. Severus met her gaze for a second before leading the other two in the direction of the Floo. He obviously expected her to meet them there.

"You know, those are probably three of the biggest gits in all of Britain," George remarked as he watched them make their way through the emptying pub.

"But definitely three of the sexiest," Fred added, finishing his twin's thought. The other redhead nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

Hermione giggled again. She had long since been aware that the two more liberal members of the Weasley clan wholeheartedly embraced the concept of free love, with no regards to gender boundaries. They literally could, and often did, swing whichever the way the wind blew. It was only the very tip of the gigantic iceberg that made them irrefutably unique. "You two are incorrigible."

"You wouldn't believe how many people tell us that," George said, feigning innocence.

"I wonder why."

They flashed her identical wicked grins then proceeded to escort her over to the group of wizards assembled by the hearth. Both brothers shook their former professor's hand, nodded to Lucius with surprising civility and ignored Draco completely, before crushing the curly-haired witch in a patented Weasley double hug.

"Seriously, why does Snape look like he wants to hex us each time we touch you?" George whispered in her ear, warily observing the older man's deadly glare over her shoulder.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think that that was jealousy on our dear professor's face," Fred murmured in the other.

Pulling back to look at the witch suspiciously, both their brows shot up again in response to the pink tinge that stole across her cheeks unbidden. Hermione couldn't help her reaction. When she had glanced at the dark-haired wizard, he had, in fact, looked murderous. It wasn't hard to decipher the emotions behind such a look and it sent an unexpected zing down her spine. Hermione quickly shushed the twins before they could make any accusations that she wouldn't, in good conscience, be able to deny and stepped out of their embrace. "I'll see you two later," she said pointedly.

Fred looked at his brother then theatrically dabbed his eyes with an imaginary handkerchief. "It looks like our little girl is growing up, George."

George sniffed loudly and pretended to blow his nose on the sleeve of his magenta robes. "Where does the time go? Just yesterday she was _preventing_ scandalous crimes—"

"—and now she's committing her own," Fred finished, perfecting the tone of an overly-proud father.

Torn between amusement and mortification, Hermione smacked them both on the arm. They had deduced the truth behind the situation with lightning fast speed, no doubt due to their own deviant nature. She suddenly wished that they had chosen a different locale for lunch today. The last thing she needed right now was for the troublemakers to head straight to the Diagon Alley Post Office and send a lurid owl to their youngest brother. She tried to wordlessly plead with them, beseeching eyes rapidly jumping between the two.

The twins grinned at the witch's reaction and each pecked her flushed cheeks for the sole purpose of seeing Snape's eyes light up in anger again. He didn't let them down.

George winked at the Head girl and mimed the act of zipping his lips then threw the invisible key to his brother. Fred faked a Seeker-worthy dive catch and locked the secret away as well before dropping the key into an imaginary pocket for safekeeping and giving it a reassuring pat.

Figuring that their little display would have to suffice as a promise, Hermione bid them goodbye and watched the red-haired wizards disappear out the back door that led to the wizarding mecca. With a silent prayer, she turned back to her entourage. Judging by their varied expressions, all three of them had drawn their own conclusions as to the meaning of the twins' performance.

Lucius looked as if something rancid had been waved beneath his aristocratic nose. "I didn't realize that we were to be _subjected_ to dinner and a show."

"What the bloody hell was that all about?" Draco asked, nearly speaking over his father, clearly at a loss.

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. "There are no words to explain Fred and George."

Snape snorted derisively beside her. "That's the understatement of the year." He extracted a handful of Floo tablets from his pocket and held them out. "Now, if there aren't any more of my former headaches hanging about who feel the need to fawn all over you, Miss Granger, may we return to the Ministry?"

She grinned at his appalled tone and turned to him. She met his eyes but was somewhat taken back by the storm within their depths. Was he seriously upset over the boys' antics? "I'm ready."

With an amused shake of his head at his friend's agitated demeanor, Lucius selected a tablet, threw it in the flames and stooped into the hearth. Draco followed right after his father. For the second time that day, though, the former spy stopped Hermione before she could Floo to their destination. Once both pure-bloods had disappeared, he grabbed her arm firmly and spun her around to face him. She inhaled sharply at the wizard's dangerously close proximity and baleful gaze. Had she been anyone else or had she not already snogged the man in question and ascertained his feelings for her, she'd be terrified.

"Follow me," he hissed, before turning and stalking away in obvious fury.

Excited and wary in the same breath, she quickly obeyed, trailing after his silent footsteps down the dingy back hallway and into a darkened room that she assumed was reserved for private parties. As soon as she crossed the threshold, the door snapped shut behind her and she was forcefully pressed against it, a shadowy form pinning her down and two dark forearms connecting with the wood on either side of her head. Startled by the sudden contact, the witch gasped and her captor took advantage of her open mouth by plundering it with his tongue. Her mind reeled from the possessive intensity of the man's kiss, which was neither gentle nor kind, before the hard body grinding against her own erased all conscious thought.

A few moments later, just as Hermione was about to throw the wizard to the ground and have her wicked way with him, he pulled away from her lips. Consumed by desire and out of breath, she opened her eyes to meet his smoldering gaze. "Are you always...this jealous?" she panted, correctly deciphering the situation despite the heavy fog that had settled over her brain.

Severus growled in frustration and took a step back from the witch, revolted by what he had just done. In one fell swoop, he had demonstrated, almost violently, the one nuance of his personality that he never intended her to see. And for what? Because a couple of men — mere boys, really — had laid their filthy hands on what he ridiculously deemed to be his?

Heedless of the strained warnings of his conscience, the incessant pressure in his chest had returned with a vengeance when they had kissed her and it had taken sheer willpower to keep him from ripping their identically-freckled heads off with his bare hands. To appease the fiery, green-eyed, chest-dwelling demon that had become such a nuisance that weekend, he had selfishly taken advantage of the girl, who now had every reason to never forgive him. With a grimace, he took another step backwards. "I apologize," was the only thing he could think to say.

Hermione couldn't make out the man's expression in the gloom, but she could tell enough from the tone of his apology to make an educated guess at his mood, not that she really understood the cause. "You do realize that Fred and George didn't mean any harm, don't you?" she asked, reaching out in the darkness and grabbing hold of his hand to pull him closer. "They're like brothers to me. They might be a little overly affectionate at times but they don't treat me any different than they do Ginny. I'm pretty sure that they laid it on a bit thick today because they thought your reaction was funny."

"That doesn't excuse my behavior," he very nearly snapped. He was relieved to hear the true nature of her relationship with the twins firsthand but had suspected as much. He had attended the same Order meetings, holiday celebrations, and funerals as she had in the last year and knew the witch was inordinately close with the Weasley family. That knowledge and her assurances, however, were not enough ease the turmoil in his mind. He knew that he had screwed up royally and that a lesser woman would've slapped him and run screaming from his presence by now. Unsure why she wasn't doing just that, he tentatively traced a fingertip down the brave little Gryffindor's jaw. "I didn't want you to see that side of me — not now, preferably not ever. I'm not proud of it, but you make it nearly impossible to suppress."

Hermione couldn't help but grin. He was upset because he thought he had mistreated her and worried that she would judge him harshly for what he saw as a personality flaw. Truthfully, his sudden possessiveness had surprised her, but it had also thrilled her to dizzying levels. When she had been pressed against that door, wedged between the rough wood and his equally unyielding body, the feminist inside her had screamed its objections. Surprising, though, the slightly masochistic side of her personality had firmly told the screeching voice to shut the hell up and the rest of her had had to agree. Jealousy matched the wizard's demeanor perfectly, so much so that she was surprised that she hadn't foreseen it before now, and she found herself every bit as attracted to that aspect as she was to the rest of him.

"I don't want you to hide any part of yourself from me, Severus, even the darker parts," she admonished softly, slipping her hands behind his neck and lacing her fingers. She leaned her cheek against his chest and listened to the rapid beat of his heart for a moment before whispering, "Besides, I don't think that I've ever been quite so turned on."

" _Turned on_?" the wizard scoffed, standing rigidly in her embrace. "You can't honestly expect me to believe that the woman who fought to free house-elves even though they didn't want to be freed enjoys being treated like some common possession?"

"No," she replied, not lifting her head. "But that isn't what you did. You treated me like a highly coveted, precious commodity that _belongs_ _solely to you_." She sighed languidly and peered up at him. " _That_ I enjoyed quite a bit."

A thin smile cracked the wizard's harsh features as he stared down at the remarkable little witch, her eyes glowing even in the heavy shadows, and wondered what he had ever done to deserve such an unexpected gift. Overwhelmed by emotions that he didn't quite understand, Severus bent down and gathered the woman against him, lifting her right off her feet. "Foolish girl," he murmured tenderly before reclaiming her lips. This time, the kiss was soft and sweet and full of the apologies that he hadn't needed to say.

After being snogged senseless for the second time in less than ten minutes, Hermione was gently sat back on her feet, which were tingly and unsteady. In the back of her mind she knew that they needed to return to the Ministry, that they still had important business to attend to, but the rest of her entire being wanted nothing more than for the wizard to scoop her into his arms and Apparate them directly into his bed. She reached out to him again.

Despite his body's vehement protests, Severus took a step back from the woman's clutches. This was dangerous; she was far too intoxicating. "We better go," he said thickly, remembering his friend's words of forbearance and their awaiting duties all at once. "Lucius and Draco will be wondering where we are."

Resigning to the fact that their little interlude had to come to an end, Hermione snickered as she straightened her robes and smoothed down the curls that had become askew during their tussle. "Something tells me that those two will know exactly where we were and what we were doing."

The wizard scowled and pulled open the door, flooding the darkened room with wafting lamplight. "That, my pet, is precisely the problem."


	20. Chapter 20

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

By the time they had returned to the Ministry of Magic, the activity in the atrium had calmed to a more reasonable level. There was barely a dozen people milling about, talking in muted tones or scurrying off to their unknown destinations. The subdued atmosphere, however, did not prevent Snape from offering the witch his arm once they had both exited the Floo. Hermione took the proffered limb, reestablishing the coupling that was beginning to become their custom, but looked up at him questioningly.

"I'm fine now, you know," she said quietly. "There's hardly anyone left here. We must've missed the returning crowd."

"Thank Circe for that." Severus smirked and leaned down slightly to ghost his voice against the witch's curls. "But I feel the need to keep you _close_ nonetheless." The tone he purposely imbibed at the mention of their proximity made her shiver visibly and in a far more pleasing way than he was accustomed to eliciting. His lips twitched in satisfaction as he scanned the long vestibule.

The Malfoy men, easily spotted with dual heads of platinum-blond, were standing near the gilded archway at the opposite end of the atrium, talking with a couple of wizards in Ministry robes. The strangers soon departed and the elder pure-blood grinned as the conjoined pair approached.

"Took you long enough, Severus," Lucius commented mockingly. "We were just about to send out a search party."

"A needless precaution," Severus replied coolly, deftly pulling out of the witch's embrace. "I had some business to attend to before returning."

" _Business_?" the blond repeated, obviously trying not to grin now and clearly not believing the man's pitiful excuse. "Surely nothing so pressing that you would risk missing your own presentation?"

"It was of the utmost importance, I assure you," the younger wizard said frostily as he withdrew his pocket watch and scowled at the filigree display. They _were_ dangerously close to being late. He gestured towards the large golden gates. "Shall we, then?"

Draco glanced at his classmate, who still appeared somewhat flustered and slightly mussed from whatever had taken place after they separated, as they followed the men through the archway. Like his father, he hadn't bought a word of his godfather's story — what possible business could he have had at a dingy pub in the middle of a week day? — but valued his appendages too much to dispute it to the wizard's face. The Slytherin, instead, turned to a more equal-footed target, namely Granger. They had formed an alliance, of sorts, and he was sure had could wheedle the juicy details out of her. He was also sure he'd be able to find ample opportunity for teasing, which was at least half the fun.

He waited until they were standing side by side, in queue for the lifts, before speaking so low than only the Muggle-born could hear. "So, ' _business_ to attend to'? Is that your new nickname, Granger?"

Hermione's cheeks colored, wordlessly confirming the boy's theory, and she shot him a quelling glare. As she had suspected, their delay in returning to the Ministry hadn't gone unnoticed nor had Snape's excuse been believable.

Draco pressed on undeterred by her reaction. "Rather seedy place for a shag, don't you think? A definite blemish on your squeaky-clean reputation."

"Malfoy!" she hissed, indignation warring with amusement in her eyes. He could be such a rude, nosy little ferret. They stepped up in the line together before she leaned in to whisper in the blond's ear. "You know perfectly well that no one has been shagging anyone anywhere." More's the pity, at this point.

"I merely know that it took the two of you nearly twenty minutes to complete a journey that should've taken no longer than twenty seconds," he replied and she could've smacked the smug smirk right off his handsome face.

"If you must know," she murmured, knowing he was going to get the truth out of her sooner or later, "we were delayed because Severus felt the need to right a perceived wrong." She felt her cheeks warm again at the memory. "He has a bit of a jealous streak in him. Took me quite by surprise."

Draco's smirk faded slightly as they moved up in the string again. The next available lift would be theirs. "Don't tell me he went after those carrot tops because I really wouldn't have wanted to miss that."

She scowled and swatted his arm. "No, you arse. His actions were centered on me." She didn't elaborate on the details, though. It had been such an intimate interlude that she frankly didn't want to sully it by gossiping with the wizard. Of course, by not being explicit, she left the Head Boy to draw his own conclusion as to what had actually transpired. The return of his arrogant expression told her that he had made the correct one.

An empty lift rattled down towards them, making enough noise to raise even the most stubborn dead, and the four of them stepped inside. Hermione huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, resting back against the wall of the contraption. Leave it to Draco to annoy her right out of her blissfully happy mood with one brief whispered conversation. He was nearly as blessed with that particular talent as his godfather. She still wasn't altogether sure why she bothered with the lot of them. Then, of course, she remembered those eyes, Severus' eyes - coal black and fathomless with an innate ability to pierce through her very soul in a single glance. And those lips, thin and nearly always cruel, that taunted her and did unspeakably delicious things to every nerve in her body. Those kisses...

Lost in thoughts of the redeeming qualities of a certain Slytherin, the witch didn't realize that they were moving until the lift lurched downward and pulled her uncomfortably full stomach along with it. Down? They were going down? The only levels of the Ministry beneath the atrium were the Department of Mysteries and the unused courtrooms that had once held Harry's underage magic usage trial.

"Severus?" she asked, looking up at the dark-haired wizard beside her, suddenly too apprehensive to worry that she had just used his given name in mixed company. "Where's the presentation being held?" Anxiety swirled through her gut again as she hoped against hope that they wouldn't be venturing past the black door that still occasionally haunted her dreams. She wasn't sure that she could keep her irrational fear in check if that were the case.

"Level ten," he replied, not meeting her gaze.

The breath that she hadn't realized she was holding burst forth in one powerful gust. At least they wouldn't be going in _there_ , anywhere else would suffice. "I thought that that level wasn't used anymore."

Severus turned to look at the witch sharply, wondering just how she knew such a thing. Of course, being who she was, it shouldn't have surprised him — she possessed all manners of knowledge whose source was a mystery to him. And then a vague memory came to him, something Dumbledore had told him once in passing, about the Potter whelp being tried by the entire Wizengamot and the boy managing to weasel out of expulsion yet again. He scowled automatically then remembered her question. "Certain presentations are held down there, when the potency of the creation warrants it. The area is containable and as far away from general Ministry traffic as is possible, in the event of an accident."

She nodded then felt her stomach clench again as the lift came to a stop and the overhead voice announced their location. "Level nine: Department of Mysteries."

The spring-loaded gate opened and suddenly, though she felt her legs moving unhindered, it was if she was walking through a foggy marsh. Each step was heavy and laborious and all she could see through the imagined haze that surrounded only her was that contemptible, ominous black door. As she trudged along, heedless of the whereabouts of the three wizards that had exited with her, Hermione was assaulted with memories of the last time she had been there, nearly two years ago. That night had been truly horrible, rivaled only by the hallowed hours of the final showdown of the war. At least during the last battle, they had been prepared, trained, and had expected the horrors that awaited them. But the fateful night that brought the six members of Dumbledore's Army here had ushered in mere children that hadn't the faintest inkling of what they were up against. As a result, she and her friends had been grievously injured and Sirius had lost his life. That tragic conflict, centered around a dusty, worthless glass ball, had been the beginning of an epic war that had raged and ravaged the wizarding and Muggle worlds alike for nearly a year. It was painful — physically painful — to be back here now, even after so much time had passed.

As the group made their way down the eerily quiet corridor, shoes clicking against the black marble floors, Severus was positioned between his oldest friend and his newest distraction and the tension coming from both sides was so palpable that it was a wonder it didn't choke them all. He knew little of what the Gryffindor witch and her impetuous, reckless friends had gone through that night but he was sure that it had been traumatizing. How could it not have been, for children so young to face off against white-masked demons they had only seen in their nightmares?

His own involvement that night had been hardly heroic, though it had served its purpose. After being given that cryptic yet succinct warning from Potter — _He's got Padfoot! He's got Padfoot at the place where it's hidden!_ — he had left the scar-headed whelp in Umbridge's deplorable clutches and immediately contacted Grimmauld Place via Floo. Of course, just as he had expected, he had found Black perfectly safe and sound, albeit a little stir-crazy, holed up in his moth-eaten ancestral home. They had exchanged insults, which was as natural as shaking hands for the childhood enemies, then Severus had relayed his suspicions about Potter's concern. He had fought with the pure-blood for nearly twenty minutes before he was able to convince him that rushing up to the school in his mangy mutt form to comfort the damned Boy-Who-Refused-To-Die was not the best course of action. At the time, he honestly had had no reason to believe that Potter or anyone else was in any real danger.

When the Gryffindor's faithful entourage turned up missing, however, Severus knew that he had severely misjudged the boy's level of idiocy and had sent word to Dumbledore, who had been able to rally enough of the core Order members to launch a rescue mission. Though the former spy had had no evidence that his other master was staging an attack, he hadn't joined the forces at the Ministry in the off chance that his duplicity might be revealed. In the end, it had been a wise choice, one that had preserved his cover long enough to have been an asset in the final battle.

After it was all over with, Albus had only briefed him on the highlights of what had occurred. Black, who had foolishly gone to protect his godson after all, despite direct orders not to, had been struck down by his deranged cousin and several of the students had been injured, including the curly-haired girl beside him. She, in fact, had arrived back at the castle bleeding and unconscious — a thought which seemed torturous to him now. He had brewed the restorative and counter-curse potions for her himself, as well as advised Poppy on the best way to combat the Dark magic that her young wards had been subjected to. His counsel, as one of the only wizards in the castle with workable knowledge of Dark magic, had probably been his biggest contribution to the whole ordeal.

Lucius' part, on the other hand, he had heard recounted many, many times and from a multitude of sources. Being entrusted with the duty of retrieving the prophecy had been a major coup and would have ensured Malfoy's place at his master's right hand had it been carried off successfully. Instead, the Dark Lord was positively livid with the failure. Lucius had been locked away in Azkaban for several months before Voldemort had allowed him to be released, only to torture him brutally for hours on end, granting each member of his prized inner circle a go at the egotistical blond. The Dark Lord's wrath that night had left the wizard in the pitiful state that he had been in up until yesterday. Severus knew, without a doubt, that the older Slytherin considered the skirmish at the Ministry and his failure that night to be the starting point of what had proved to be nearly two years of indescribable, relentless pain and anguish.

"Doesn't inspire the best memories, does it, Miss Granger?" Lucius asked in a hollow voice, a ghost of sneer on his lips.

At the sound of her name, Hermione blinked furiously to chase away the desolate tears that were threatening to fall. "No," she whispered, nearly too faintly for anyone else but her to hear. There was no way to express her feelings further than that, so she made no attempt to. Needing his comfort and support more than she needed her next breath, however, the Muggle-born slid her small hand around the professor's arm once again. He allowed it with no more resistance than a short-lived tensing of his bicep.

The group advanced down the corridor, each step requiring more effort than the last for two of its members, and finally made it to the stairwell that had been secluded from view until they were right up on it. The men started down ahead of her and when they reached the damp, dungeon-like bottom level of the Ministry, Hermione's uneasiness took on a whole new magnitude. The air here was thick — so palpable that she knew she wasn't imagining it — unearthly still, and bone-chillingly cold. She could almost see the Dementors that used to sweep the passage, eagerly anticipating the next criminal or victim that they'd be allowed to devour. She knew that that had once been a common practice at the Ministry. How long had it been since they had haunted these halls? Ten years, maybe more? Yet the Gryffindor had a strong desire to cast a Patronus to ward off their lasting effects.

"Merlin, it's bloody creepy down here," Draco said, shattering the heavy silence. "Did they forget how to cast a warming charm or is this cheery hospitality intentional?"

"This isn't the type of cold that any elementary charm could suppress," Snape replied, ever the teacher.

"Imagine it about a thousand times worse and you'll have a vague idea of what Azkaban was like," Lucius said, causing a visible shudder to pass through the party.

No one spoke again until they reached the conference room about midway down the corridor. Severus stopped just before opening the door and glanced at his companions. "Is everyone ready?"

Both Malfoys stood a bit taller, their chins raising and a look of relaxed indifference crossing their handsome features, before nodding. Hermione wasn't nearly as confident. Her nerves had been ravaged by the myriad of events that day. She looked up and met the wizard's gaze uncertainly. His face was set in its usual expressionless mask, but his dark eyes were brimming with silent compassion. Without him having to say a word, she suddenly realized that he truly did believe in her legitimacy here in regards to the potion they were about to present and more importantly, that she wouldn't have to face anything alone. The Gryffindor bit her lip and nodded. If that was the case, then she could do this.

Once assured that everyone was ready to proceed, the Potions Master pulled open the heavy wooden door and ushered them through. When Hermione crossed the threshold, she felt a strong magic ward wash over her and with it the foreboding chill of the hallway disappeared. She paused and looked around, trying to pinpoint the source of the magic.

"It's a containment charm," Severus murmured behind her, nudging her into the room with a hand on her lower back. "Precautionary measure, in case of an explosion or other adverse magical reaction."

She nodded, thinking that that was a wise decision. Having spent years in a Potions lab with Neville, she knew all too well how even the most harmless of brews could turn volatile if handled the wrong way. An accident down here could endanger the entire complex if not properly contained.

Snape slipped past her and as he and Lucius went to greet the board members, the Head Girl moved to stand with her classmate against the back wall and took in her surroundings. Considering where they were, she had assumed that the presentation would be held in one of the courtrooms that Harry had described and was therefore inordinately relieved to be standing in what appeared to be a garden-variety conference room. It was bright and warm, yet not suffocating so, and featured a long table littered with parchment and quills and surrounded by more than a dozen black leather chairs. There were no cauldrons or potions equipment to be seen, nothing in fact, outside of the lack of windows and the slight buzz of the protection wards, to give the impression that it was anything more extraordinary than the type of boardroom that could be found in any Muggle office building.

After a few minutes of mingling amongst the witches and wizards that made up the patent review panel, Severus beckoned the oddly reserved students over to the table, motioning for his apprentice to sit between Lucius and himself and for Draco to take the chair on the far side of his father. This, he knew, would be the order in which they'd be asked to testify.

Hermione sat as gracefully as she could and clasped her hands in her lap, trying to suppress the urge to fidget as the board members took their places across from them. She knew that her part in the presentation would be insignificant but having to speak in front of these people at all made her nervous. In addition to the chairman she had met earlier, the committee was comprised of seven other men and four women, all of which were bound to be some of the most prestigious members of the potions community. What the hell was she supposed to say to these people that wouldn't make her look as inept as she felt?

Unknowingly, Severus was exuding quite the opposite demeanor. Having done this many times before, he was a model of calm, collection, and confidence. Here, unlike the rest of his existence, he was revered and respected for his talents. These people, most of which he had known since he was just a schoolboy, only cared for the science of brewing, not the moral implications of what had been created. The same could not be said for himself, though. He had presented some of the most gruesome elixirs known to man within these four walls in his younger years, and each and every one of them had left a blackened spot on his soul. Today, he realized, was his chance to redeem some of those errors.

At promptly two o'clock, the chairman called the meeting to order with a quick rap of his wooden gavel. The first half of the presentation was relatively straight forward and seemed to follow a well-established regime. Snape gave a detailed explanation of the inner workings of the potion, the ingredients used, and the success of the experiment already performed. Once he was finished, the board members were invited to question him about everything from the thought processes behind its conception to the specific brewing techniques he had employed.

As Hermione listened to the complex inquiries they posed, she tried to envision how she'd respond if she was the one being interrogated. She probably knew more than most people about the potion, after all, having seen it brewed and been given a thorough description of all its intricacies first hand, but even she couldn't answer the majority of the board's questions and was thoroughly impressed with the ease in which Severus did. There was no denying that the wizard was truly in his element here.

Once the committee's curiosity had been exhausted, it was the co-creator's turn to give her testimony. When the chairman turned his watery eyes to her, Hermione's stomach immediately clenched into painful knots again. She briefly wondered what the reaction would be if she were to vomit her large lunch all over the marble table. Just as she was about to unintentionally find out, a cool hand slid into her lap and gave her knee a gentle squeeze, instantly soothing her nerves. How did he do that? Better yet, how had she survived thus far _withou_ t him doing it?

Resisting the impulse to grin like a fool, the Head Girl turned her attention to the chairman as she placed her hand on top of wizard's to hold it in place.

"State your name for the record please, Miss," Adolpho said, gesturing towards her with his sausage-like fingers.

The entire room's focus zeroed in on her and she lifted her chin a bit higher. "Hermione Jean Granger."

"And what is your affiliation with Severus Snape, Miss Granger?"

She blinked. If that wasn't a loaded question. "I am apprenticing under Master Snape," she replied, using the title for the first time but trying not to sound like it, "and a student in his N.E.W.T. level potions class."

There were more than a few raised eyebrows at that statement but the chairman pressed on unfettered. "And what was your involvement with the Cruciatus Vomica Domintor potion?"

Hermione swallowed. Here was where the truth would come out, where everyone would learn that her entire contribution boiled down to nothing more than dumb luck, and she'd be tossed out on her arse. Severus squeezed her knee again in that simultaneously reassuring and utterly distracting manner under the table and she didn't hold back the small smile that the movement elicited as she answered. "I witnessed both parts of the brewing process and transcribed Master Snape's notes while he worked. It was my suggestion to use the Monkshood oil at the end to fuse the other ingredients—"

A frenzied buzz of whispers suddenly broke out, cutting off her reply, and several of the board members looked as if they had questions, no doubt skeptical of how a seventh year student could've bested a seasoned Potions Master. Apparently none of them paid much attention to Potions journals either.

"I also witnessed Mr. Malfoy's transformation," she continued despite the interruption, staring determinedly at the wall behind the witches and wizards so as to avoid the disbelief in their eyes.

A bearded man to the chairman's right, who looked old enough to have been Dumbledore's grandfather, was the first to ask the inevitable. "How exactly did you come to that conclusion, Missy? Surely you've been taught that Monkshood is poisonous?"

Her cheeks flushed but indignation overrode her embarrassment. She didn't think her suggestion had been the lynchpin of the potion and it had been basically chance that she remembered the article that mentioned it, but it _was_ based on sound information. "Yes, sir, I have. I got the idea from an American master that had experimented with Monkshood oil in a restorative draught which shared some similarities with Master Snape's potion."

"But you yourself had never used the ingredient?" came the reply, this time from a silver-haired witch a few seats down.

"No, ma'am. Not in that way, at least," Hermione said quietly. "I made the suggestion and Master Snape agreed to try it."

"So it was nothing more than a _guess_! And a highly dangerous one at that!" a man at the end of the table remarked incredulously and several of the other committee members nodded in agreement.

Severus sneered as his apprentice's gaze fell to the table. He knew that the board was just reacting to fact that a young and relatively inexperienced witch had come up with a solution that they would've never dared to consider. He also knew that though their words hadn't been meant in offense, they were inadvertently justifying the girl's ridiculous belief that she didn't deserve to be here just the same. So much so, in fact, that he could feel her physically shrinking from the onslaught.

"That's enough, Ribardi," he snapped, staring down the man across from him. "Miss Granger came about that _guess,_ as you put it, through impeccable personal research. She didn't just pull the idea out of thin air. She then presented it to me, her Potions Master, and it was my decision to test it. She may be quite a bit less experienced than the rest of us but she's hardly a child playing around with a toy cauldron, throwing things in just to see what makes the biggest explosion." He scanned the panel with a wickedly arched brow. "Surely you trust _me_ enough to decide whether her theory had merit or not?"

"Of course we do," Adolpho said beguilingly, trying to maintain the peace. "I don't believe anyone meant to imply that your apprentice wasn't competent, Snape. It's just not often that we're presented with such a controversial technique."

"Then perhaps you've all grown a bit too complacent with the status quo," the Slytherin replied coldly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hermione raised her eyes in time to see the board shift uncomfortably in their chairs. She felt a childish urge to stick out her tongue and say, "So there!" but thought better of it.

"It was a rather inspired idea," a blonde, middle-aged woman across from Draco admitted. "Risky, certainly, but inspired."

"Yes, I believe having a fresh-minded Mistress-in-training in our midst might do us all a world of good," the chairman mused, leering at the girl in a less than appropriate manner.

Luckily for him, Severus missed that particular look and simply nodded in agreement when Adolpho proposed, "Let's move forward, shall we?"

Relieved that her part of the proceedings was over and buoyed by the Severus' latest defense on her behalf, Hermione sat back and watched as the somewhat abashed firing squad turned on Lucius next. She was impressed with how patiently and articulately the former Death Eater answered each of the board's questions. He gave a detailed description of the ailments that he had suffered before the potion was administered, which were far more numerous than she had first realized, how the metamorphosis felt, and his condition since. Where Snape's account had been clinical, scientific, and straightforward, Lucius' was personal and heartfelt. By the time he was finished, two of the female board members had unshed tears in their eyes and the panel as a whole was regarding the blond a bit differently than they had just moments before. Hermione flashed him a bright smile when he glanced her way and she idly wondered how interested he'd be in writing a book about his experience. He could be incredibly charismatic when he wanted to be.

Draco was the last to be questioned and lucked out because he was only asked to attest to his father's testimony. The Head Boy seemed almost putout that his part wasn't more elaborate, though why, after her experience, she couldn't imagine.

Believing that they'd gathered enough information, the committee concluded the first half of the presentation with the chairman handing the four participants magical affidavits to sign. Hermione quickly read the document, which just verified that her account was the truth to the best of her knowledge, and signed her name at the bottom with one of the quills provided. With the last flourish of her signature, the black ink glowed a brilliant gold for a moment, searing itself into the parchment and binding her to the information much like a wizarding oath. She looked down the length of the table to see Lucius' and Draco's papers respond similarly, then towards Severus, who was withdrawing two small vials of the familiar green potion from the depths of his robes, his affidavit already signed. He passed one of the crystal cylinders down to Adolpho and placed the other on the table in front of him.

Amidst the small talk that had picked up during the brief intermission before the next phase of the presentation began, Hermione leaned over and asked the dark-haired wizard, "Why two?" in a low whisper.

Severus twirled the vial between his fingers, controlling the spin on the marble to keep it from falling over but at the same time egging it on to faster speeds. It almost looked like a tiny, pirouetting ballet dancer or, given its vivid color, the churning flames of an activated Floo. It was nearly hypnotizing, but the gentle voice beside him pulled him from the mirage. He clutched the crystal roughly in his hand to stop its dance and stood it back up on the table before responding. "One is for them to examine and store in the archives. The other is for the experiment."

Hermione nodded but wished that his explanation had lasted longer or that he was more inclined to idle chitchat or, at the very least, he would return his hand to her knee. She was anxious about seeing the potion administered again and wasn't quite sure what to do with herself while they waited. It was taking considerable willpower not to fidget in her chair as it was. The elixir's effects on Lucius had been monumental, breathtaking even. But would they be lucky enough to garner a repeat performance? Or would it all go terribly wrong this time around? She believed in the Potion Master's work wholeheartedly, but what if Lucius' transformation had just been an isolated phenomenon? How could they be sure, after just one dosing, that the effects would be similar for every Cruciatus victim?

Wrapped up in her own internal worries and viciously, albeit unconsciously, abusing her lower lip, the curly-haired Gryffindor lost track of what was going on around her and nearly jumped out of her skin when the chairman's gavel rapped against the table again. She looked up to see two male wizards in St. Mungo's lime green robes enter the boardroom, levitating a stretcher between them. Turning in her chair, she watched the men cross the chamber and transfigure the bed into a high-backed armchair, bringing it to rest in the empty space at the end of the conference table.

The chair's occupant was female and Hermione immediately recognized the physical effects of the woman's ailment. Much like Lucius had been, she was emaciated and looked to be teetering on the very cusp of death. Her frail, painfully thin frame was swaddled in a thin hospital gown and a thick blanket was draped across her lap. The witch's hair was shorn close to her scalp, completely missing in some spots and patches of muddled brownish-red and gray in others. Her face was heavy wrinkled, littered with brown, flaky liver spots, and the skin hung from protruding cheek bones as if no flesh existed between the two. There were impossibly dark shadows beneath her eyes, which, though open, were so clouded that it was impossible to determine if she could see at all. Her raw-looking lips were drawn up in a permanent grimace and the woman was completely still save for the shallow, laborious rise of her chest as she breathed.

None of the committee members made a sound as they stared, each shocked by the test subject's wretched state. It was obvious none of them had ever seen firsthand the effects of this particular curse. Hermione empathized with their reaction, having felt the exact same way the morning before. Nothing could quite prepare you for sight like that.

After a moment of thunderous silence, the older Healer cleared his throat and introduced himself and his partner as he produced a clipboard from his robes. Adolpho seemed to come back to his senses at this announcement and returned to his role of chairman, prompting the wizards to share the woman's history and medical information.

The patient, as they solely referred to her, had been attacked and viciously tortured nearly ten years ago while on holiday in Paris. The motives behind the attack weren't readily known but she had been a resident of St. Mungo's long-term care ward for over six years, having been brought there by family members who had run out of resources to care for her on their own. She suffered from many of the same afflictions that Lucius had cited along with symptoms that spoke to how long the Dark magic had been coursing through her body. Being female, she had also gone through physical catastrophes that the blond pure-blood had not, including massive damage to her reproductive organs and mammary tissue. The severe pain, organ malfunction, and relentless seizures had resulted in a near-constant need for sedation.

As Severus listened to the Healer's testimony, he was satisfied that although the witch had been suffering with the illness for far longer than Lucius had, their cases were similar. He had little doubt that the potion would be able to restore the woman's health in much the same way and judging by her present condition, help could not come soon enough.

When the wizard had finished detailing the patient's history, the Potions Master was the first to speak. "Is she coherent enough to understand what's happening? Has she given consent to be used as a test subject for an experimental potion?" He was not about to lay his career on the line to administer a barely tested drug to a comatose patient. Should it fail, the repercussions of drugging someone without explicit consent, even as close to death as she appeared to be, would prove disastrous.

The older Healer nodded. "Her body is heavily sedated but her mind is still very much intact. She was explained the details of the experiment and the possible dangers and agreed to any means that might prove successful. She knows that she stands very little chance of surviving much longer without mediation."

Hermione grimaced as Snape stood from the table and walked towards the test subject, taking the potion vial with him. How horrible it must be to be in full consciousness of the pain and swift decline of your faculties. The Longbottoms' condition, however sad it may be, was looking preferable to what this witch had gone through. Neville's parents may be wholly unaware of the world around them but there were also unaware of their own condition. As far as she knew, they had no recollection of what they had lost or of their own suffering. In certain cases, ignorance was most assuredly bliss.

Severus stopped in front of the patient's chair and looked down his sizable nose at her. He didn't know this woman but her condition instilled pity deep within his chest in a way that Lucius' had not. His friend had willingly signed up for the life that had led to his afflictions, but this witch had been a hapless victim. She was a vivid reminder of what kind of cruelty existed in the world, the kind of cruelty that he had once been party to. The former Death Eater swallowed back the bile and addressed the witch in the softest tone he could muster. "Madam, you'll need to stand for the potion to be administered. Can you stand on your own accord?"

For several long seconds it didn't look like the woman had the ability to respond. Her mouth twitched a bit but no audible sound was produced. Finally the witch shook her head ever so slightly and even that negligible motion seemed to require intense effort.

Severus frowned. He hadn't really expected her to be able to, but he wasn't sure what to do about it. As he had warned Draco the day before, they didn't know what affect the potion would have on anyone touching the drinker. Magical means of support, though, such as a levitating charm, were completely out of the question. In a split second decision, he gestured towards the two Healers to come and assist the witch. External support was necessary and would have to be tested sooner or later anyway. The medi-wizards would make just as good guinea pigs as anyone else and at least they were trained.

Responding to the Potion Master's wordless command, the Healers gently pulled their patient to a standing position. The blanket on her lap fell to the floor and exposed two withered legs that looked better suited to be hanging from a Muggle Halloween skeleton than a living, breathing person. Flanking her on either side and wrapping one arm around the woman's middle, the men were able to support the whole of her insignificant weight effortlessly. She struggled to keep her head from dipping to her chest.

Snape uncapped the vial of lime green liquid and stepped in front of the witch. "You'll need to tip your head back as far as possible and open your mouth."

He could tell that the frail woman tried her best to do as he asked, but she wasn't able to move more than a centimeter or two, her sightless eyes staring helplessly up in his direction. With a quiet sigh and the utmost care, he placed two fingers under the witch's chin and gently lifted until her head fell back onto her protruding shoulder blades. He then carefully pulled down on her jaw until her mouth sagged open.

Holding her head in position, he carefully tipped the vial and poured the contents down her throat. She reflexively spluttered and Severus quickly laid two long fingers against her jugular and gently massaged in a downward stroke. "Swallow, madam."

Slowly but surely the liquid trickled down the woman's throat, her face contorting from the effort to perform such a simple task, and once assured that the majority of the potion had been imbibed, the wizard released his hold and stepped to the side to give the committee a clear view.

Without the support, the patient's head lolled downward and her cloudy eyes fluttered shut, having spent what was left of her all-but-nonexistent energy supply. The air was thick with expectant silence as every eye in the conference room was glued to the feeble witch's form, suspended between the green-robed men.

Suddenly, without warning, a pale white light seeped out of the woman's skin and surrounded her like a translucent cocoon. Both Healers jumped in surprise and dropped their hold on the illuminated witch, but the potion's magic suspended her in mid-air, leaving her curled toes to barely graze the stone floor.

Hermione watched transfixed as the woman's breath stalled and the enveloping light spiked. The small dungeon space was filled with gasps and muttered expletives as the transformation began. Had the situation not been so serious, she would've found the board members' reactions funny. Surely these people had seen some amazing things over the years but their unmitigated shock at seeing the test subject's body quickly rejuvenate was genuine. The Head Girl's eyes sought out Snape and found him staring intently at the now-blinding light, as if he could somehow will the sought outcome into existence by sheer determination. She was overcome, yet again, by what this amazing man had created.

When the white light dimmed and then faded altogether, the spectators were left in awed silence. Nearly every jaw in the room had fallen open in a collective gape as they took in the renewed creature before them, completely unrecognizable from the fragile and emaciated witch that had been suspended there only moments before.

The witch's frame had plumped up and filled out into the soft, ample curves a mature woman. She appeared to be approximately Lucius' age, though it was difficult to be sure. Standing on two shapely legs, she was nearly a head taller than Hermione and statuesque in a way that the Gryffindor could never hope to be — the type of voluptuous figure that the Greeks used to carve from stone. The cropped and splotchy hair on her head had grown into sleek waves of red that cascaded down her back like flowing lava. Her face, though naturally pale as fine porcelain, was clear and vibrant, the only remaining wrinkles being in the thin creases surrounding her mouth and at the very corners of her eyes. And oh, those eyes! Once opened, a pair of crystal blue orbs was revealed, glittering animatedly at their surroundings. After Severus' earlier complaint about being surrounded by Weasleys, it was more than a little ironic that this beautiful woman could've easily passed for one of their clan.

The shocked and absolute silence in the room was suddenly decimated by a thundering eruption of applause and frenzied discussion amongst the panel members. Heedless to the commotion, the still somewhat dazed witch looked down at herself. She stretched her hands out in front of her and blinked several times, as if trying to clear away the drug-induced fantasy she had surely fallen into. Her eyes caught on one of the red curls that had fallen over her shoulder and she tentatively pulled it between her manicured fingers, apparently unsure if what she was seeing was real.

Recovering from their astonishment, the two Healers pulled their wands from their robes and performed several quick, yet comprehensive medical scans over their patient. Over the din that had broken out, Hermione couldn't hear the whispered results of these tests but it must have been good news because the witch's face transformed yet again, this time as the result of a brilliant smile that showcased a row of perfectly straight, white teeth. Her blue eyes sought out the Potions Master responsible and when she found him, still eyeing her critically from against the far wall, she crossed the distance and crushed him in an appreciative hug, tears suddenly streaming down her face.

To Hermione's great amusement, Severus blushed again, the dusty pink spreading from the tips of his ears to suffuse his normally sallow cheeks. His dark eyes met hers over the witch's shoulder and he seemed to silently plead with her to do something about the now-sobbing woman that was clutching his tear-stained robes. The Gryffindor was hard pressed not to laugh out loud at his pained expression.

"Severus has always detested physical affection, especially from strangers," Lucius said quietly beside her. "He looks like he'd rather hex that woman than continue to let her touch him."

She turned to the blond and grinned. "It's quite funny, isn't it?" She didn't feel the need to point out that the wizard wasn't averse to _all_ physical affection.

"That was pretty amazing to watch. Was it the same yesterday?" Lucius asked, having missed out of the majority of his own transformation. His gray eyes flickered back to the attractive witch.

"Almost exactly," Hermione replied. "Except you didn't develop as many curves... or red hair."

The vain pure-blood flipped his head, regretting that morning's decision to tie his precious silvery-blond locks back. "Thank Merlin for that."

She grinned again and turned away from him in time to see the darker haired Slytherin reclaim his place at her side, having just managed to fend off the overjoyed witch. Her smile grew at the repulsed expression on his face and she leaned in to whisper, "You really do need to learn how to accept gratitude, Severus."

He scowled. "That woman was blubbering all over me. A simple thank you would've sufficed."

Hermione chuckled quietly but her reply was cut off by the chairman's gavel clattering against the marble table again. The room fell silent once more and Adolpho clapped his pudgy hands together. "Well done, Snape! That was nothing short of miraculous! Of course, we've come to expect nothing less from you over the years."

"Thank you, Adolpho," Severus replied curtly, having no intention of making a lavish, self-serving speech. It was enough that he had done what he came here to do and despite his abhorrence of the test subject's superfluous gratitude, his burdened soul did feel lighter.

The chairman, being accustomed to the Potions Master's reticent behavior, turned his focus to the woman at the front of the room, who was currently admiring her resurrected features in a hand mirror that had been conjured for her. Once they garnered her attention, the board posed the same questions that they had asked of Lucius. Her answers and account of the transformation were consistent with the blond pure-blood's, although, unlike him, she cried through most of her testimony.

Producing a crisp linen handkerchief from a pocket of his robes, Severus passed it across the table to the woman before addressing the pair of Healers, instructing them that she was to be placed under constant monitoring for the next twenty-four hours and if she experienced any complications, even as mundane as a sniffle, they were to contact him by express owl immediately. The older wizard, who was scribbling furiously on his clipboard, readily agreed to the prescribed terms.

"How many patients does St. Mungo's currently have that are exhibiting similar reactions to the Cruciatus Curse?" Snape asked.

The younger man was the first to answer. "We have fifteen in our long-term care ward at the present and there's at least a dozen more that receive regular outpatient treatment."

The Potions Master nodded. "We'll begin brewing immediately and should have the first batch to you by the end of the month. I'll also send the brewing instructions so that your facility can produce further stores. I'd suggest that after an ample supply has been amassed, an announcement be made for people who have yet to come forward to do so. I know a great deal of them have been suffering in private."

The senior Healer nodded in agreement. "We'll handle that straight away." He reached out to shake the professor's hand. "I can't tell you how many people will soon be singing your praises. Thank you."

Snape nodded and as the pair of Healers made to leave, their patient leaned across the table to grab a hold of his hand. Dark, penetrating eyes met her pale blue, reddened ones and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

"I don't know what I could ever do to repay you, sir," the witch said in a choked voice, new tears trickling down her wet cheeks. "You may never be able to fully comprehend just what you have given me today, but if there is anything that I can do for you, _ever_ , please don't hesitate to ask. I'm in your debt forever and everything that is in my power to give is at your disposal."

"Yes, well... I..." Severus stammered, totally unprepared for such a gush of emotions. How the hell was he supposed to respond to such a disgustingly Hufflepuffian display? Words failed him, yet again.

And yet again, the little loquacious Gryffindor came to his rescue, leaning across his lap to place her small hand on top the redhead's, drawing her off-putting gaze away from him. "Just go and have a wonderful life. Enjoy it to the fullest," she said so easily, so eloquently, and Severus could've kissed her for it.

The older witch smiled her brilliant, envy-inspiring smile and squeezed the girl's hand. "I intend to, Miss. Thank you both, so very much." She sniffed and patted her eyes again on the Potions Master's hanky before handing it back and following the Healer's out of the conference room.

Hermione smiled as she watched the woman leave. She didn't know her name and would probably never lay eyes on her again, but she couldn't help but be indescribably happy for her and hopeful that whatever she chose to do with her second lease on life, she would be enormously successful at it.

When the door closed behind the group now headed back to St. Mungo's, the Head Girl's focus turned to the wizard she was still partially leaning across. Good gods, the things she could do in that position. She shook her head to clear the highly inappropriate thoughts seeping into her subconscious and sat up, only to be met by that iconic, amused, and slightly teasing arched eyebrow of his. Bloody hell, wasn't it time to go back to the castle yet?

She smiled coyly and then the chairman was talking again, commanding her unwilling attention away from the alluring man at her side. That voice was seriously starting to grate on her nerves. And what was he saying? Ah, yes. More words of praise, more congratulatory statements laced with unabashed greed. Severus deserved so much better, though was unlikely to receive it from this lot.

The board asked the Potions Master several more questions relating to what they had just witnessed before Adolpho produced an official registration certificate for all twelve of them to sign. As Severus accepted the embossed parchment, his other hand surreptitiously found its way back to Hermione's knee and gave it a squeeze. She smiled brightly as the room erupted into applause again.

After that and many handshakes and back slaps, the foursome was able to extract themselves from the conference room, leaving the committee members behind to continue their discussion of the day's presentation. Hermione found that she didn't give a damn what was being said and was even thankful for the bone-chilling cold once past the wards since it meant that they'd be leaving. She had had about as much of this place as she could stand for one day.

Once in the solitude of the dim hallway, Lucius extended his hand to his longtime friend. "Excellent show, Severus. Quite entertaining." The slightly younger wizard smirked and the pure-blood said, "Now home, I think." He didn't wait for a response to this before strolling briskly towards the staircase at the far end of the gloom, his cane beating out a rhythmic, albeit muffled, rap-tap noise on the compacted, slightly damp, earthen floor.

With Snape's long legs, he caught up with the blond almost immediately, leaving Draco to trail in their footsteps and Hermione, the shortest of the four, to practically jog to keep up. She cursed her mother under her breath, not for the first time, for passing on her vertically stunted genetics.

The group soon emerged from the dungeonesque underground level and headed in the direction of the lifts. Nearly halfway down the marble-tiled corridor and clutching a stitch in her side, the Head Girl looked up from her own feet and noticed that Lucius wasn't in the lead any longer. In fact, he wasn't with them at all. She stopped abruptly and turned around to find the tall blond standing at the end of the hallway on the other side of the staircase, facing the door to the Department of Mysteries. Without stopping to consider the situation fully, she took off in his direction.

The two remaining Slytherins felt the witch's departure and turned to see her walking briskly towards where Lucius was standing. Severus knew what his friend was doing, knew the type of closure he was seeking, and knew from experience that it was a lone journey. He had purposely left the blond to his soul searching when they had reached the top of the stairs. He hadn't, however, counted on the little Gryffindor's foolishly compassionate heart to usurp his efforts.

"Miss Granger," he called, trying to warn her to give the pure-blood some space but failing to find suitable words quick enough. "Stop," was all he could manage and to his dismay, it came out more as a plea than a command.

Hearing but not obeying the wizard's call, Hermione approached the elder Malfoy and came to stand at his side. She glanced at him quickly from under her lashes then looked forward again. His stormy gray eyes were glued on the ominous black door before them, but it was obvious that he wasn't seeing anything in the present at all. She wasn't sure what made her do it, whether it was her own abused conscience or something more intangible, but something deep inside urged her to lay her hand on the pure-blood's arm and silently offer him support for whatever internal battle he was fighting. He might have been the ringleader of the hell she had experienced here two years ago, but she could clearly see, in every tensed muscle of his body, that the events of that night had haunted him far more than they had her.

Startled by the sudden and unexpected contact, Lucius turned to face the small witch that had somehow snuck up beside him. He couldn't begin to fathom why she was there, trying to comfort a Death Eater at such a notorious locale, one that should've had her running in the opposite direction as fast as her so-called Gryffindor bravery could carry her. He was sure that she had her fair share of nightmares involving this place, just as he did. After all, while he was being whisked away to begin his stint in Azkaban, she was being carted out on a stretcher. The glaringly obvious difference being that she had been a victim that night while he had been the tormentor.

He turned back to the pernicious door with a frown. It had all been his fault. Well, maybe not _all_ his fault, per se, more like seriously faulty planning. They were supposed to go in, scare the bejebus out of the Potter whelp, secure the Prophecy, and get out, unscathed and undetected. They hadn't planned for the boy to bring an entourage of foolish children with him, all ready to fight to the death for him and more competent or just plain lucky than any children that age had a right to be. Nor had they anticipated the Order of the Phoenix showing up en masse and staging a full on battle. Yes, critically flawed reconnaissance was mostly to blame. Of course, they had mainly relied on Severus for that sort of thing and his loyalties had almost always laid elsewhere.

Still, Lucius accepted that it had been his fault for going through with the task, his fault for following the orders of a deranged lunatic, and his fault for ever believing that anyone was unworthy of his scrutiny on the sole basis of age or bloodline. He should've gotten out of the game long before any of that evening's events transpired. Hell, he should've never gotten in the game to begin with. It had cost him more than he had bargained for, so much more than he had had to give. There was much to say for the ignorance of youth, but it had proved a far bigger crime to blindly follow that ignorance once youth had no longer been an excuse.

"I don't think that I'll ever be able to fully apologize for the events that I subjected you and your friends to here, Hermione," the wizard said quietly after a few moments of painful introspection.

She sighed and slid her hand into the crook of his arm. "Do you want to hear the truth?"

"Doubtful, yet I believe that I learned enough about you now to know that I'll receive it nonetheless."

She smiled slightly at that irrefutable fact, thinking that it had sounded quite a bit like something the man's taciturn friend would say. "I've spent the last six years of my life thinking that you were one of the evilest men that I ever had the misfortune to meet, second only to the abomination you used to call _Master_." She saw the blond grimace at her words and redoubled her efforts to make her point. "The thing is, despite all my preconceived notions and firsthand knowledge to that end, spending time with you over the past two days has proven to me how much you've changed. You are not what you once were. I don't need more of an apology than that."

The pure-blood shook his head in wonderment at how effortlessly she could forgive the heinous crimes of his past when he himself couldn't even begin to. "Severus was right, you are rather extraordinary." He allowed at a slight smile at the blush that peppered the girl's cheeks. "I just wish the rest of wizarding world could share your sentiment."

"You're an influential man with a lot of resources at your disposal," Hermione replied. "If you steer that towards something worthwhile and really try to make the most out of this second chance, I think people will eventually see that."

Lucius snorted. "Is the world pretty through those rose-colored Gryffindor glasses?"

"Better than the pessimistic, Slytherin model," she teased.

He chuckled, feeling his recent onset of melancholy and turmoil fade. "Yes, I'd imagine so."

"So, can we please get the hell out of this gods-forsaken place now?" she asked beseechingly. She was quite sick of the depressing atmosphere and the memories that accompanied it and hoped he was too.

The pure-blood turned her with a smile and placed his hand on top of the small fingers curled around his arm. "That's the best idea I've heard all day."

Without a second glance toward the Department of Mysteries, the two of them strode down the hallway arm-in-arm, back to the pair of wizards who had been patiently watching their curious exchange.

"Miss Granger has requested that we leave and I second the notion," Lucius announced once the foursome was reunited. Both Slytherins nodded in agreement and fell in step behind the entwined pair.

They were soon ensconced within the Ministry's lift again and the blond turned to the Potions Master to ask, "You're coming back to the manor, correct?" as they shimmied their way back up to the lobby.

"I have to get these two back to the school," Snape replied.

Lucius chuckled. "Yes, I have no doubt that you're eager to get your lovely apprentice here back to the castle, Severus, but surely you have to time to join me in one little cognac before heading out. Dumbledore didn't expect your return until dinner if I recall correctly."

Hermione cleared her throat to cover her laughter and Severus scowled over the witch's head at his so-called friend. "I'm beginning to think that you're a bad influence, Malfoy."

By the time the bodiless voice announced their arrival on the main floor of the Ministry, several light-hearted insults had been exchanged but the decision was made; they were headed back to Malfoy Manor. The group quickly made their way through the now sparsely-populated atrium, checked out with the security wizard, and joined the small queue for the outbound Floos.

Snape handed out another round of green tablets and, as had become custom, Lucius was the first to disappear through the flames. Before Draco followed after his father, however, he turned to his Head of House with a falsely innocent expression. "Perhaps you should go first, Severus."

The professor cocked his brow in question and Draco smirked. "I'd just hate to see you get distracted by _business_ again."

Hermione's eyes widened at the connotation and before either of the wizards could say another word, she threw in her own Floo tablet and forcefully shoved the insolent pure-blood into the emerald fire. His expression was smug as he announced his destination and swirled away.

"Do I even want to know what that was about?" Severus asked in a hushed tone as he fished another green disc from his pocket.

"No, I doubt that you do," the witch replied before giving him a wink, taking the tablet, and vanishing into the hearth's depths, beyond thrilled to be leaving the Ministry behind.

* * *

A/N: I had to make some difficult decisions in this chapter. The story was always, since its inception, meant to be AU after book 5. All that we learned of Severus' involvement with the prophecy was given to us _after_ book 5. I debated whether or not to include it anyway (because I love the intricacy it adds to his canon character) but in the end, I decided that it would have altered the tone of the chapter, and probably the entire story, too much. Also, in the hopes of keeping up the continuity of the story, Hermione's familiarity with the level ten courtrooms from book 7 doesn't come into play here. Those events didn't happen to these characters.


	21. Chapter 21

**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE**

With a soft whoosh, Hermione was chucked out of the flames and deposited back into the Malfoy library. As much as she had begun to love this enormous chamber, its gleaming shelves didn't hold her captivation for an instance. Instead, her eyes immediately searched out the unabashedly grinning Head Boy and shot him dark glare. "That _wasn't_ funny, Draco."

"I'm inclined to disagree," the blond replied, grin widening further as the Floo surged again and his soot-laden Head of House stepped gracefully out of the hearth. "Not only was it quite amusing but it obviously worked rather well."

Severus brushed off his robes and glanced between his squared-off students. The witch appeared hostile and the Slytherin looked supremely arrogant. It was going to be an interesting school year with these two. Still, he figured it best not to ask what had 'worked rather well' and let them sort through the issue themselves. It'd be a pity to ruin such an enjoyable day by hexing his godson. He cast his eyes around the otherwise empty room. "Where's Lucius?"

"I'm here," the older pure-blood called, emerging from the shadows at the far end of the room with two brandy snifters and an obviously well-aged bottle of cognac in his hands. "And you're just in time."

As if receiving some cue that only he could hear, Draco circled around the back of the armchair and grabbed Hermione by the elbow. "I've got some books up in my room that I want to take back to school," he said in explanation when she glared at him again and tried to pull out of his grasp.

"We need to leave for the castle in an hour," Severus argued, pulling his watch out to verify that fact. He wasn't particularly keen on the two disappearing into unknown corners of the manor together, especially in their current states.

"No problem. We won't be long," Draco replied smoothly then tightened his grip on the squirming Muggle-born at his side before leading her to the door. "Come along, Granger. That's a good girl."

Snape scowled at the degrading treatment. He suspected the boy was only following his father's orders to leave them alone, but there was no need to manhandle the witch. "I believe Miss Granger is capable of walking on her own. You can release her arm."

The Seeker merely snickered in response as he continued to pull the girl out of the library under the baleful watch of his godfather. His maneuver had been meant to annoy his classmate; rankling the older man was just a happy byproduct. Merlin, he was going to have such fun this year with all these new dynamics at play.

"Come and sit with me, Severus," Lucius called from his armchair as the pair disappeared from view. "I'm sure they'll be quite fine on their own for a short while."

The Potions Master glared at the closed door for a moment longer before sinking into the opposite chair. "That's precisely what worries me."

The pure-blood chuckled as he poured a glass of the amber liquor and handed it to his friend. "She's perfectly safe with Draco."

"Spoken like a man who's never seen that boy in action." Severus accepted the glass and took an appreciative sniff. "You do realize that he's bedded at least a fourth of the school's female population, don't you?"

Lucius wasn't surprised by this news; in fact the sudden smile on his face as he poured himself a few fingers of brandy would better be categorized as prideful. "Of course he has, he's my son." He pompously flipped his hair over his shoulder, having untied it as soon as he was back home. "But that doesn't mean that he would go after _your_ witch."

The younger man grimaced slightly at the insinuation and took a small sip of his cognac. "She is not _my_ witch."

An imperial blond brow rose. "For the love of Merlin, are you seriously going to continue to deny this? We've all been made perfectly aware of your affinity today."

Snape gave the wizard a perfectly-schooled blank expression, as if to imply he had no idea what the man was talking about. This wasn't the type of conversation he wanted to have. It was too reminiscent of the short, heated discussion they had had in this exact same spot the day before, except that now the girl wasn't _just_ his student and the man's accusations were true.

"It is far past time to admit that you fancy the girl, Severus."

The professor scowled and the two men silently stared at each other for a full two minutes before he sighed and looked away. "Fine." Another sip from the tumbler in his hand. "I care for her. Satisfied?" He would not use the word _fancy_ ; he was not a schoolboy.

Lucius chuckled. "On this point, yes."

"I have no intention, however, of taking things further until she graduates."

The pure-blood swirled the cognac around in his glass and took in a savory mouthful — it really was a remarkable specimen. He looked up questioningly at his companion's words. "Meaning what exactly?"

Severus readjusted slightly in his chair. He had been thinking about the situation with the Gryffindor witch nearly obsessively since acquiescing to her again that morning. She was dangerously intoxicating and he had already proven how ineffective he was at resisting her allure. Yet he valued the girl's reputation and innocence too much to destroy it needlessly. He now planned to court her, in a respectable fashion, but abstain from anything more intimate until she was no longer his student. Maintaining a certain level of propriety was the only way he could foresee surviving the ethical minefield he had found himself in. "Physically," he replied matter-of-factly.

"And have you discussed that strategy with her?" the older Slytherin asked. He wasn't surprised that the former spy would attempt to restrain himself as such — the man was always denying himself some form of gratification or another — but based on the sexual tension painfully evident between the two whenever they were in the same vicinity, he seriously doubted that he'd be successful.

"Not as of yet."

Lucius tried his best not to laugh. "Good luck with that then." He lost the reign on his composure in the face of the dark glower he received in response. He snickered for a moment before augmenting the conversation a tad. "Speaking of Hermione, your defense of her to the patent committee earlier was quite chivalrous."

Snape huffed irritably and threw back another gulp of alcohol, barely noticing the rich flavor this time. "Bunch of sodden old fools. They wouldn't know brilliance or innovation if it were to knock them on their arses."

"Perhaps not, but they did seem rather awestruck by your potion," Lucius pointed out.

"Which means what, exactly?" he scoffed. He made a mental note to apologize to his apprentice for the board's despicable treatment of her. It angered him that such a thing was necessary.

The blond's pale eyes twinkled and he sipped another small measure from his glass, smiling contentedly as it slid down his throat. It had been so long since his stomach could handle such treasures. "You deserve an Order of Merlin for what you've accomplished and you know it."

Severus snorted. Dumbledore had told him the same thing after the smoke from the final battle had cleared. But just as it had when he had attempted to capture Black several years ago, still thinking him the reason behind the Potters' broken Fidelius charm, the reward had not been forthcoming. "And you know as well as I do that _that_ will never happen."

"Mmm, the price we pay for foolishly believing in a mad man," Lucius replied, holding up his snifter in mock salute. The truth of those words seemed to settle heavily in the air between the former Death Eaters and the elder sunk back into his chair with a weary sigh.

"Is everything alright, Lucius?"

The pure-blood was quiet for a minute, trying to pinpoint and identify the mood that had been periodically washing over him since being reunited with the Department of Mysteries. It was a most unusual assortment of jumbled emotions really; a mess from which he could only draw one coherent conclusion. "I think I'm just feeling a bit... lost."

Severus, feeling that they had finally reached the principal topic of this interlude, sat his glass down on the coffee table between them, rested his elbows on the armrests, and steepled his fingers in front of him. "Lost?"

The blond frowned. The description was rather pathetic, he knew, but it was the best he could manage. "I don't know where to go from here. You and your little miracle elixir have given me my life back. The pity is that I haven't a clue what I'm supposed to actually _do_ with it now." He sighed deeply again. "Cissy's gone, the Dark Lord is undoubtedly haunting the deepest, darkest lairs of Hades, and the Malfoy name has ceased being good for much more than dazzling half-wit lackeys at the Ministry. I obviously can't reclaim the roles that I once held and I truly don't wish to, but I don't know where that leaves me."

Snape nodded in understanding, picked his glass back up and drained its contents. He understood that particular definition of 'lost' all-too-well. He had felt its effects firsthand after the Dark Lord's defeat. His roles as Death Eater and master spy had been instantaneously dissolved under the bright green glow of the killing curse and for the first time in twenty years, his life had suddenly lacked a definite purpose. Some would probably think that that kind of freedom, after all he had endured, would've been welcomed but for him it had been nearly maddening.

Thankfully, he had had Hogwarts to fall back on and his teaching of thickheaded children. He had had Dumbledore to help him sort out his options and the whole apprenticeship scheme to focus on. Malfoy had none of those things. He was a widower with no prospects or ambitions of an actual career, no real hobbies other than collecting obscene amounts of robes and footwear, and no real viable skills to speak of, outside of greasing political wheels, Dark curses, and general evil-mongering. Of course, being a wealthy pure-blood, he needn't really worry himself with these shortcomings — he'd never have to work a day in his life if he didn't wish to — but what he did need was a diversion of some sort.

"You need to find something to occupy your time," Severus decided after a few moments of introspection. He leaned down and refilled his glass with the wizard's exceptional brandy. "Do some traveling and get out of this big empty house. Take up a hobby. Court a few witches — hell, court a few _wizards_ if you feel like it. Doesn't really matter what you do as long as it gets your mind off things for a time."

"That does sound refreshing — a holiday, I mean," the pure-blood quickly revised with a bit of a chuckle. _Courting wizards_ , as if. "I've been a prisoner here for far too long. Perhaps I could go to Paris for a few weeks — get some sun, do some shopping."

The professor rolled his eyes theatrically at the thought of the prissy man acquiring any more clothing. " _That_ you could probably do without, but as I said, whatever it takes."

Lucius took a deep sip of his cognac, his mind already preoccupied with which boutiques he should visit. Still, the wealthy aristocrat wasn't as completely vain as he normally appeared. There were subtle parts of his psyche that had been questioning his worth for quite some time now. The man sitting across from him, who had had a far rougher life than he, had just created something that was going to have a major positive impact on the wizarding world. How was he possibly supposed to compete with that? What of consequence did he have to offer?

"Miss Granger seems to think that I should put my leadership skills and resources to good use," he mused out loud, eliciting a bark of laughter from his dark-haired companion.

"She always has been one to take up a fledgling cause. She was downright outraged last night when I told her the real circumstances of Narcissa's death." The blond's brow rose and Severus wasted no time in explaining himself. "It was quite by accident, I assure you. Started with an innocent discussion of Narcissa's romance novel collection. But had I not stopped her, the girl probably would've already owled Barnabas Cuffe by now to demand a meeting." The wizard shook his head. "Just say the word and I'm sure she would provide you with a whole host of charities that could benefit from the contents of your bank vault."

"She is quite a witch," the pure-blood agreed, easily reading between the lines of the man's thinly veiled awe. "Possesses an unparalleled amount of compassion and resilience for someone so young."

" _Quite a witch_ ," Snape repeated, the lines on his face softening a bit. "She's definitely that."

Lucius studied the Potions Master's uncommonly content expression like someone might a flower that only bloomed once a year. It warmed his heart to see the aberrant man so enamored with something outside of the contents of a cauldron. "I'm pleased that you saw fit to follow my advice in regards to her, Severus. Perhaps I should return the favor and listen to yours. Do you think that enough time has passed for me to indulge once again in the fairer of the sexes?"

The younger wizard shook himself from his reverie, realizing a second too late that a response was required of him. His thoughts had been preoccupied with the fiery little witch that had so adeptly ensnared his senses, a weakness he would definitely need to overcome quickly. It wouldn't do to have thoughts of her pervade his mind at the wrong time once back at Hogwarts. "Only you can decide that," he answered quickly to cover his lapse, "but I believe that it was you who said that one can't live their life chasing after ghosts."

"Touché."

"Nothing you do is going to bring Narcissa back," Severus said, giving his friend a meaningful look. "Forfeiting your own life to mourn the loss of hers would do her memory a great disservice."

Lucius smirked at the irony of that statement, or rather, who had made it. "A bit of late night snogging and you've turned into quite the sage." He chuckled at his companion's indignant sneer. "Maybe it _is_ time for me to find a paramour. A redhead, perhaps. That woman that you cured today was quite striking, don't you think?"

Snape nodded. The woman had been surprisingly beautiful once fully restored. "Though I doubt that she'd be very interested in someone with our former affiliations after what she went through."

"Yes, I realize that," the older Slytherin replied, tone dripping with sarcasm. "I didn't mean that I wanted to court her, per se, just someone with similar attributes. I can't say that I've ever been with a redhead."

Severus pushed away the onslaught of mental images that accompanied those words, not wanting to dwell on the red-haired witch from his own past, and instead concentrated on visions of a certain honey-toned brunette. He was becoming quite fond of that particular shade, especially when in a riot of untamable curls. "Well," he said with another vague smile, "there are a half-dozen or so available Weasleys to choose from, although only one of them is female and she's more suited for your son than you."

"Draco's interested in a _Weasley_?" Lucius asked, somewhat startled and completely mortified. Some things, no matter what, never changed — his condescending view of that particular obscure branch of his family tree being one of them. They were related, distantly as all pure-blood families were, but he had never claimed the relation.

"No, not that I'm aware of. I just meant that she's young — only just begun her sixth year."

"Ah, right," he replied, endeavoring to cover his surprise with sarcasm. "And I believe we're in agreement that you've cornered _that_ market. Corrupting doe-eyed youth has never really been my thing, except, perhaps, when I was one myself."

Another dark sneer suddenly clouded the raven-haired wizard's face, though he couldn't dispute its cause. Yes, he was officially 'robbing the cradle', so to speak, even though nothing more physical than kissing had occurred. But corruption? Could his dalliances with the young Gryffindor be considered that? Most regrettably, it probably could.

"Still, though," Lucius continued, unaware that the conversation's other half had drifted into bitter introspection, "some sort of entertaining diversion is certainly called for. No one will ever be able to replace my dear beautiful Cissy, but Merlin, it's been ages since I've had a good shag."

Severus swallowed the last of his second glass of brandy, giving time and lubrication for the bile in his throat to retreat from whence it came. "So you'll go to Paris," he said, once he could talk comfortably again, "shop for unneeded and ridiculously overpriced clothing and find a willing redhead to distract you for a few weeks. When you return — hopefully relaxed and properly satiated — you can start worrying about how to fill your _senior years_." He put extra emphasis on the last two words, knowing full well how they'd needle his egotistical friend.

"Watch yourself, old man," the blond replied in a lazy, yet decidedly threatening tone. "I can still out duel you."

The ex-spy flashed a shark-like smile. "Not even on your best day." 

* * *

"What was that about?" Hermione asked as her classmate unceremoniously dragged her through the various rooms between the library and the foyer, apparently under the impression that she was incapable of forward motion under her own volition. "Do you really need my help just to get a couple of books?"

Draco shook his head. "Father wanted to speak to Severus alone."

"And you couldn't just tell me that instead of dragging me about like a rag doll?" She managed to finally wriggle out of his grasp as they mounted the stairs. He was surprisingly strong, probably due to his Seeker training all these years. Harry had a similar, unrelenting grip.

He turned to her with a smirk. "Now what would be the fun in that, Granger?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'll remind you of that when Severus finally decides to hex you."

The blond laughed and ran his hand through his hair. "Never gonna happen. Besides, you wouldn't have wanted to stay in there anyway, trust me. Those types of conversations are rarely interesting — political-type rubbish mostly; Ministry gossip. "

"I think Lucius might be looking for a bit of advice, actually," Hermione replied pensively, thinking of her short conversation with the older aristocrat in front of the Department of Mysteries. "He seems a little unsure about what to do now that he's cured."

They reached the upstairs vestibule and headed in the direction of the Slytherin's bedroom. Draco's brow creased in consideration. "Is that what you two were discussing at the Ministry?"

"Partly, along with commiserating on our memories of that damned place. We share a bit of unpleasant history there."

Pushing the door open, the Head Boy immediately flopped back on his beloved bed, sighing in pleasure. Like he did every time he was home, he wished he could take the luxurious piece of furniture back to the dungeons with him. He had actually attempted it once, in third year, but the elves had some type of magic on the furniture that kept him being able to shrink it. When he had complained to his father about the situation, the man had laughed at his attempt and told him that the uncomfortable accommodations at Hogwarts were a rite of passage that he would have to endure. He still wasn't entirely happy about it.

He turned his head to watch his Gryffindor companion curl herself into his armchair then stared back up at the textured ceiling in contemplation. "Do you know what happened to him after that night at the Ministry?"

Hermione studied the pure-blood's profile and saw his features tense into stone. "No, not really," she said quietly. "I know that he was arrested but that's about it."

The lines around the boy's mouth cinched even further. "That crazy bastard left him locked up in Azkaban for nearly six months. Most of the Dementors had abandoned the place, but the alternative wasn't much better. When he was finally allowed to escape, he was tortured by the other Death Eaters — men that had been like family." His voice cracked and though he cleared his throat, his next sentence came out in a gravelly whisper. "Mum said he was barely alive when they dumped him at the gates."

"How long was that before your mother was killed?" The question had left her mouth before she could stop it and his resulting grimace made her wish she could take it back. Her heart felt like it was splitting in two for him.

"Not long... We had Christmas together. That was the last time I..." He swallowed painfully and shut his eyes for a minute, letting the rest of that thought go unsaid. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Before she could formulate a compassionate reply that he wouldn't sneer at, a loud crack echoed through the room, announcing the arrival of the family's house-elf. They both jumped, but Popkins simply laid a silver serving tray on the bedside table and popped back out of the room, obviously not wanting to interrupt their discussion. Hermione had to wonder if the elf had somehow sensed the boy's discomfort. The elves here had peculiar abilities.

"Cookies and milk?" she asked with surprised amusement, gesturing towards the platter.

Draco sat up, crossed his legs into a pretzel, and snatched a chocolate chip biscuit from the plate. He shrugged before taking a bite. "They still think of me as a little kid. Bloody good bakers though."

The witch giggled and took a cookie and glass of milk for herself. He was right, the sweet snack was delicious and warmed her stomach the way that only childhood favorites could. The pair was quiet for a few minutes as they dipped and devoured their respective treats, each thankful for the timely diversion.

"So what are you going to tell Potty and the Weasel about this weekend?" the blond asked once all the cookies were gone.

Hermione winced at the reminder of what she had yet to deal with and how soon that precious ignorance would be coming to a screeching — quite literally, more than likely — end. She didn't even notice his use of rude nicknames anymore, which was quite telling about how much their relationship had morphed over the weekend. "I haven't the slightest clue."

"It'll be quite the tale — consorting with a group of Death Eaters and Death Eater descendants, committing the next three years of your life to the _dreaded_ Professor Snape, and then practically shagging the very same git." He smirked, laying back on his pillows. "Makes me wish I could be around to hear you try and explain it all."

She sighed heavily. It _was_ a ridiculously contorted story. "I anticipate a great deal of yelling and foul language, not really my idea of a good time."

"Making the Prat-Who-Lived's scarred head explode? Sounds like great fun to me." He laughed at the face she made. "Goes to show you just how little we have in common."

"You don't honestly still believe that, do you?" Hermione asked, taking the offered detour from things she'd rather not think about. The confrontation was forthcoming whether she worried about it or not. "If anything, I think that this little weekend excursion has proven just how much we're _alike_."

"Impossible," Draco replied with stubborn certainty. "I'm pure-blood, you're Muggle-born. I'm Slytherin, you're Gryffindor. We couldn't be more different if we tried."

The witch shook her head. "Those are just superficial differences. Beyond that, it's almost scary how much we have in common."

"Scary, yes. Accurate, no bloody way."

Hermione frowned, feeling a tad offended that the boy was so adamant about not being like her. The arrogant prat. What was so horrible about her? "Whatever, Malfoy."

"Oh, don't get all pissy on me," he chided, sitting up again. "This is how we operate. I say something rude, yet terribly witty and more often than not true, and you fiercely defend whatever it is that you think I've grossly misjudged and/or offended. If you mess with that formula, then you'll throw this whole precariously balanced friendship completely out of sorts."

"Ah ha!" she exclaimed, a triumphant smile lighting her face. "So you admit to being friends — a feat which you claimed not two days ago was impossible!"

He wrinkled his nose at his inadvertent omission. "Slip of the tongue. I didn't mean it."

"Nope, too late. You already said it. _You love me_ ," she teased in a sickly sweet singsong voice.

"I think I'm going to vomit."

She laughed at his ridiculous expression, all the while thinking that this weekend had been a lot like fighting the troll back in her first year. That experience had brought her, Harry, and Ron together as friends, even though they hadn't liked each other beforehand. This extraordinary outing had done the same for her and Draco. Some things, it seemed, were just too life-altering to come out of without sharing some sort of connection. She idly wondered which had been more bonding, curing Lucius or the evolution of her relationship with Snape.

"So let's hear these incorrectly-perceived similarities to which you insist exist," he said in order to stop her giggling. It was a given that the girl had a mental tally of such things. Knowing her, she probably had it all written out somewhere, too, charted in detail like some sort of overly thought-out pro/con list.

"Where would you like to start?" she asked, drawing her feet up beside her in the chair. She was confident that she could change his mind, even if he wasn't willing to admit it. "How about the fact that we've both been at the top of our class since first year? Or that we regularly run academic circles around our friends — or former friends," she revised, thinking of the fate of the two wizards that had been the Slytherin Prince's bulky shadows for nearly as long as she had known him. "We were both made Prefects and now Head students because we share common leadership and organizational abilities and neither of us are afraid to correct our peers or deduct House points when necessary."

"Especially from the opposing Houses," Draco added with a smirk. He had never actually deducted points from Slytherin and there was a cap to how many he could award, which was wholly unfair in his opinion.

"Even though our childhoods were radically different," she continued, ignoring his comment, "they were somewhat similar in the way that both of us had the unique burden of being an only child born to parents with extremely high standards.

"For me, that meant proving that I could be the smartest, most powerful Muggle-born witch the school had ever seen because nothing less would've been good enough." She looked into his steely gray eyes, which were now giving her their full attention, and knew she a stuck the right chord. "It was probably the same for you, to some degree at least, wasn't it? You probably felt like you had to _prove_ that you were a Malfoy, a pure-blood, and by definition, better than everyone else, right?"

Draco nodded ever so slightly, unnerved that over the course of one weekend the little chit had managed to decipher things about his personality that even he rarely admitted to himself. He had watched her do that very thing to his godfather the night before and now understood how he had felt. It was extremely unsettling.

"See. We've spent years trying to accomplish the same goal — you through insults and snobbery and me through obnoxiously reciting facts at every available opportunity." She sighed. "I don't know about you but ever since the war, I've come to realize just how much of a waste of time that was."

He scowled out of habit, despite the fact that he agreed with her. "So we both have childhood issues and are smarter than the average morons that attend Hogwarts. That doesn't really prove anything."

She smirked at his assessment. "Alright, how about something a bit more current? Like our mutual desire for a career in Potions?"

The Seeker silently parroted the word _mutual_ before frowning. He could've denied such a claim or asked how she had come to that conclusion but knew neither would prove any good. He had been a bit too transparent and she was a bit too perceptive for him to get away with it. Even his disappointment at the presentation today had been telling, he knew. "I doubt we're the only people with that sort of aspiration and it makes us more different than alike, really."

"How?"

"Well, you're on the way to accomplishing that goal, aren't you? Mine's only a distant fantasy."

The witch's brow furrowed. "Why? You're good enough. Surely Severus would've agreed to mentor you if you would've asked before he offered me the position. He probably still would, actually. Other masters take on multiple apprentices all the time."

Draco made another face. "Firstly, I'd never willingly train under my godfather. He's a perfectionist and a slave driver and I'd probably get myself hexed within the first week." He paused when the girl laughed and he couldn't help but think that she stood a good chance of that outcome as well, even if the snarky wizard was shagging her. "Secondly, becoming a Potions Master, no matter how successful or accomplished, is not part of the _Malfoy plan_." The last of his words held a bitterness to them that he hadn't intended but that was honest nonetheless. The fact that his future was already planned, without his consent or input, had bothered him for years.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, still frowning. "Have you told your father that you're interested in pursuing Potions?"

"I see no need to. I was raised with great expectations, remember? For as long as I can remember, I've been told that I was going to become the Minister for Magic. While I don't foresee that particular aspiration coming to pass now, after the war and everything, I'm still expected to secure some sort of political position and work my way up as far as I can."

"But that's not what _you_ want, is it?" she asked, fairly certain that it wasn't. He had seemed so disinterested in his father's business and the gossip mongering at the Ministry. It had been obvious that he hadn't a single desire to follow in those footsteps.

"Of course not, but that doesn't make a bit of difference — not in this family."

The Muggle-born assumed that this was part of the same pure-blood dogma that she had butted heads against before but that didn't make it any easier to accept. "Maybe not before but things have changed. After everything he has been through lately, I think your father would agree that you should do whatever makes you happy. He encouraged your mother's interest in the subject."

"You don't know the first thing about my father," Draco snapped, feeling agitated by her presumption and her refusal to leave things well enough alone. "You know the blissfully happy wizard that's been parading around here since yesterday morning, doling out compliments and grinning like a fool. I assure you that he's not all sunshine and roses like he's been behaving."

She scowled at his tone and imbibed one of her own. "I realize that, you prat. I've dealt with the evil Lucius Malfoy enough to remember full well what he was like, but the man downstairs is _not_ the same person. He said he's trying to change his ways and atone for some of the mistakes he's made and I, for one, believe him. Are you saying that you don't?"

The wizard blanched. It was true that his father had changed dramatically in the intervening years since his im-prisonment, even more so after his mother's death, but he didn't yet know if those changes were permanent. "No, but that doesn't mean that his plan for my future has been altered."

"Maybe it hasn't, but would it hurt to find out? He'll either agree that you should do whatever you're passionate about or he'll confirm that he wants you to go into politics or whatever else — either way, you'd be no worse off than you are now."

The Head Boy picked a biscuit crumb off the green duvet and rolled it between his fingers. "Unless it tears my family apart worse than it already has been."

Hermione was surprised by this statement. Surely his future career choices wouldn't be all that big of a deal, would they? Her own parents had always hoped that she'd follow in their footsteps and take over the family practice one day, even after they found out about her magical abilities, but she knew that even if they were disappointed, they'd support her recent choice to study Potions. She couldn't believe that Lucius, as a father, wouldn't do the same. "I seriously doubt that it would come to that, Draco."

The Slytherin sighed heavily and took out his frustration by pulverizing the crumb with his thumb and forefinger then brushed the shrapnel onto the floor. "I don't want to talk about this anymore either."

"Fine," she said with an inaudible sigh, vanishing the mess with a flick of her wand — a nearly automatic reflex born from years of friendship with Ron. She knew that the Slytherin wasn't likely to respond well to the type of badgering tactics she usually employed with the boys. He was more introspective and made it clear when he had reached his limit with a certain discussion topic. She would respect those boundaries.

"So what _is_ going to happen once we return to school?" she asked, reverting back to their previous conversation. As the minutes ticked closer and closer to their departure time, the nagging worry wasn't as easy to confine to the back of her mind.

"With what?" he asked with a raised blond brow.

"Everything, I guess. So much has changed I'm not sure how to go back to regular life."

"Potions class, for one, is going to be immensely interesting." Draco groaned suddenly, as if just realizing something unsavory, like mud on his favorite boots. "This means that I'm gonna have to put up with a bushy-haired know-it-all running around my dungeons at all hours of the day and night, doesn't it?"

Unfettered by the playful insult, Hermione giggled. "Yes, as a matter of fact, you will."

He shook his head in mock exasperation. "I hope Severus knows some strong silencing charms. I'd rather not overhear..." His aristocratic nose scrunched up as he tried to pick a description that didn't disgust him when used in relation to his godfather's sex life. "Anything," he finally decided.

Hermione was on the verge of pointing out that he hadn't minded so much when he was eavesdropping on their entire conversation in the library the previous night, but before she had even opened her mouth fully, she was startled into silence by a incandescent silver raven soaring through the open door. The wispy bird was large with an impressive wingspan but flew gracefully around the bedchamber. It was obvious the creature was a Patronus but she had no clue where it had come from or who might have sent it. As far as she was aware, it didn't belong to any members of the Order but its sudden inexplicable appearance sent a zing of panic down her spine just the same.

The two of them gaped in shock at the bird for several seconds but the mystery was solved rather definitively when the Patronus opened its ghostly beak and spoke in the deep, silky voice of the Potions Master. "If the two of you are quite finished looking for your fictitious belongings, it's time we return to the castle." It then pointed a rather chilling, animalistic impersonation of the professor's trademark scowl at them before dissipating into nothingness. Who knew it was possible for a vaporous bird to scowl?

Hermione slowly turned to Draco and found him already staring, mouth slightly agape, in her direction. They both grinned and then wordlessly hurried out of the room. 

* * *

"That was needlessly theatrical, don't you think, Severus? You could've just sent a house-elf," Lucius pointed out as he watched the silver raven soar up the large staircase before them.

"I've seen quite enough of your elves this visit, thank you very much," the wizard replied, re-pocketing his wand and watching the bird round the corner on the floor above. He liked this new Patronus form. It was sleek and ominous, much like himself. It was the third incarnate of the spell he had had since learning how to cast it in the beginning of his 6th year. The first, much to his chagrin, had been a swan. It had been ridiculously feminine and embarrassing, especially when he saw that Lily Evans' Patronus was also in the shape of a swan. That Defense class had been the first and last time he had cast the spell in front of others for several years. Potter and Black had teased him mercilessly for having such a girly protective manifestation. Thankfully, they didn't understand at the time that his unrequited love for the Gryffindor witch had been the cause for the similarity in avatars. He knew and beat himself up enough over the knowledge.

The next time he had had need of casting the charm, the Potters had already been murdered, though barely. The silver doe had startled him, frankly. He recalled his former nemesis' Patronus being in the form of a stag when they had all learned the magic in class. Through reasoning and a little digging, he had confirmed that Lily's own Patronus had changed at some point after they had graduated to match that of her would-be husband. Whether it was his continuing adoration of the witch or the grief surrounding her premature death that caused his own to mimic hers, he never knew, but it had galled him because of the Potter connection every time he cast it. His Patronus had remained that infuriating doe until shortly after the final battle. When all his self-inflicted duties to his childhood love were fulfilled and those vestiges had finally fallen away, his Patronus had thankfully changed again; this time to a form that was wholly his own.

Within moments of the bird's disappearance down the hall, the two classmates were quickly advancing down the marble steps. Snape smirked in satisfaction. "Besides, it worked rather efficiently, did it not?"

"You summoned, _Master_?" Draco asked his godfather sarcastically when he had reached the foyer.

"It's getting late. We need to head back," Snape replied, looking more at the witch descending behind him than at the impertinent boy. Her eyes were cast downward, paying inordinate attention to her foot placement, and he took advantage of the moment just to watch her. How quickly his opinion of this little creature had evolved in the last few days.

"Oddly enough, we riddled that much out for ourselves."

Severus turned to glare at his godson. "Say goodbye to your father so that I can take you back to the school where I can deduct House points for such insolence."

Hermione, having reached the group of men, couldn't manage to suppress a small snort at that highly unlikely threat. She looked up to see the dark-haired wizard appraising her with a raised, expectant eyebrow. She smiled at the natural curious gesture. "What? You know as well as I do that you'd never take points from Slytherin. Draco could burn down your entire Potions lab and you'd just praise him for such a well-executed Incendio charm."

Both Malfoy men chuckled at this undeniably accurate assessment. She saw laughter dance in the professor's eyes despite the fact that his tone was far from amused when he replied, "You may have a point. _Gryffindor_ , however, is way overdue for a deduction."

"Yes, I'm sure that without you around all weekend our hourglass total has reached an all-time high," she countered, holding his amused gaze.

Lucius laughed again. "You're gonna have your hands full with this one, Severus. Whatever will you do if you can't give her detention as punishment any longer?"

The fire that flashed in the wizard's eyes, which were still focused on her own, sent a tingling spark down Hermione's spine. "I'm sure I can come up with a suitable alternative," he purred, a corner of his mouth twitching as if he knew exactly what he was doing to her. She blushed and broke his gaze.

"Well, _that_ was bloody disgusting," Draco announced pushing past the love birds to approach his father. "You two need to warn people before you start doing that."

"Perhaps it would be wise to just assume that whenever they are together, there is the possibility of that sort of behavior," Lucius said, chuckling again as he gave his son a brief, slightly awkward hug. "It was good to see you this weekend, Dragon. I've missed you."

The younger blond nodded but said nothing. He knew it had been rough on his father to be alone after he had left for school. Now that the wizard was cured, he hoped that he'd be getting out of the house more often and socializing the way he used to, albeit with a different group of acquaintances.

"I believe that I'll be leaving for a bit of a holiday in the next few days," the patriarch announced, as if granting the boy's unspoken desire. "Paris, I think. Archimedes will be able to find me, should you need to reach me. You'll be coming home for Christmas, won't you?"

"Yes, sir," Draco replied, trying to not to think of last year's winter break and how notably odd this one would be without his mother around to force them into the holiday mood. Christmas had been her very favorite time of year.

"Good. We should have plenty of time to talk then. I'm afraid this visit didn't allow for much of that. I'm sure we'll have a fair few things to discuss. For instance, I'll expect a detailed account of how ridiculously easy it is for Miss Granger to wrap your godfather around her finger." He smirked. "I'm sure it won't take long."

Severus, having heard every word of the men's conversation, sneered but silently agreed to that prediction. His track record with Gryffindor women didn't bode well for him and the girl's crooked little smile, like the one she was bestowing upon him now, had entirely too much effect on him already. His days were numbered and he damn well knew it.

"Enjoy your last year at school. It will be over before you know it," Lucius added before giving his son's shoulders a final, gentle squeeze.

"That goes for you as well, Hermione," he said in segue, moving towards the girl and extending his hand.

She surprised them all by sliding her arms around the pure-blood's torso and hugging him tightly. All things considered, she had immensely enjoyed the weekend at the manor and was going to honestly miss the man. She hoped that if her burgeoning relationship with Snape continued, she'd have more opportunities in the future to spend time with the elder Malfoy.

He chuckled at her rash movement and embraced the little witch. "It's been a pleasure getting to know you, my dear. You're welcome back here anytime, with or without invitation." He winked at the scowling wizard behind her and added, " _Or a companion_."

Before she had a chance to reply to such a generous offer, Severus grabbed her by the arm and firmly pulled her away from the blond. The look he gave his longtime friend clearly screamed _Mine_ and she couldn't help but giggle. He really was possessive and she had no idea why that fact didn't bother her more than it did, or at all, really. Instead of worrying about it, though, she took advantage of his mood and snuggled against his side before replying, "Thank you, Lucius, for everything. I had an absolutely wonderful time."

With that, the Potions Master bid the older Slytherin a rather curt goodbye and shepherded his young charges out of the house. Lucius stood in the doorway and watched them go, smiling when Severus dropped his hand from Hermione's arm only to have her grab it and try to entwine her fingers within his. The stubborn wizard was obviously opposed to this adolescent gesture because he jerked his arm away and turned to her with what from the distance looked to be a scowl. Whatever point he was trying to make was subsequently ruined, though, when he gave in and wrapped his arm, rather awkwardly due to their height difference, around her petite waist. By the time the trio had disappeared from sight, Lucius was convinced that his dearest friend was going to fall overwhelmingly hard for the spunky little Gryffindor and that this, despite what Severus himself might think, would turn out to be a very good thing indeed.

When he heard the echoing proof of their departure, the Lord of the Manor smiled and slipped quietly back inside the house. There was much to be arranged if he was going to search out his own little marvelous distraction. 

* * *

Within seconds, the trio found themselves standing once again in front of the massive gates that guarded the grounds of Hogwarts. The sun was starting to set in the sky and shadows had already begun to stretch across the Highland landscape. Standing side by side, they each took a deep breath, recovering from their mode of travel as well as reveling in the almost-palpable tranquility of the mountain air.

After a moment, the professor flicked his ebony wand and wordlessly dropped the wards surrounding the en-trance of the school. As the iron bars swung open, he turned and gave his godson a pointed look. "I'd like to have a word alone with Miss Granger, Draco."

Having received his cue loud and clear, the blond nodded curtly before striding through the gate and starting off towards the school alone. He had witnessed quite enough of the pair's sexually-charged flirting for the time being. If they were gonna start snogging, he was going to put as much distance between them and himself as possible.

Severus watched the boy disappear into the lengthening shadows before turning to look at the woman beside him. Her chocolate eyes sparkled at him as the warm, orange light from the setting sun glowed across her cheeks and illuminated the unruly mass of curls around her face. He was struck by how beautiful she looked at that moment. "Hermione," he murmured as he closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms.

She smiled brilliantly and tucked her head under his chin, pressing herself against his chest and breathing in his scent. His grip tightened on her slender frame and she sighed in contentment. This, right here in the wizard's strong embrace, felt right. As incomprehensible as the sentiment was, it felt like _home_ , as much so as the castle and grounds before them.

They stood in a silent embrace for several minutes, neither wanting the moment to end, before Hermione posed the question that had been worrying her all afternoon. "What happens now?" she asked softly, her voice muffled by the fine fabric of his robes.

He sighed heavily, wishing they didn't have to find out. "We walk back up to the school and resume our lives — you as the _slightly_ -more-sufferable Gryffindor know-it-all and me as your professor and Potions Master."

She pulled back from his chest and stared up at him, horror-stricken by his insinuation. "But I thought..." The words died in her throat as her head started to spin. Did he really mean to just forget everything that had happened that weekend? Hadn't she already won this fight twice now?

Severus' face was impassive but his eyes glinted animatedly. "You foolish girl," he admonished before dipping his head down and capturing her parted lips in a soft kiss that was laden with promises.

When he pulled away, she gave him a crooked, slightly heady smile. The corners of his mouth twitched. "Neither of our reputations would be enhanced by the nature of our relationship being made public. I think it would be best for us to appear as we always have, at least for now. I will need to treat you as I consistently have for seven years, and you must do the same." He traced his long fingers up and down her spine. "But rest assured, Hermione, I have no intention of ending this."

Relief flooded her face and she nodded. This was the type of arrangement she had been expecting and she was comfortable with it. Merlin only knew what nasty things her classmates would have to say if they knew that she was intimately involved with the most reviled professor in the school. She doubted she could explain the mutual attraction even if forced to.

Snape drew her into a kiss again. This time, their mouths were passionate and hungry as they tried to soak up as much of each other as they could, not knowing when they would get the chance to be alone together again. It spurred both their pulses to dizzying levels.

As the sun began to sink further behind the mountains, they broke apart once more. Resigned to the fact that they eventually had to return, they walked together through the gates, stepping back onto the grounds of the magical school. The professor replaced the protective wards before they started off towards the castle side by side.

"What am I supposed to say about this weekend?" Hermione asked as they climbed the sloping terrain, being careful not to slip on the moss-covered rocks. "Harry and Ron will no doubt want full details and I don't want to lie to them. I have lied so much already."

Severus scowled at the mention of the other two-thirds of the 'Golden Trio'. It was no secret that he strongly disliked her choice of friends, but he begrudgingly respected the steadfastness of their friendship. If the friend-ships of his youth had been held in the same regard, his life would have turned out dramatically different. "You may tell them whatever you feel comfortable with them knowing. I will not ask you to betray their trust in you."

She smiled, knowing that that was quite a concession for him. "Thank you. That means a lot to me." He nodded. "What about Lucius' condition? Am I allowed to tell them those details?"

He nodded again. "Since he's been cured, I don't think that Lucius would have a problem with people knowing of his previous condition. Now that the potion has been registered, it will become public knowledge before long anyway. No doubt the _Daily Prophet_ be contacting him for an interview within the week and knowing his fondness of the lime-light, he'll gladly accept."

"Will they be interviewing you as well?"

"I'm sure they will try, but I don't give interviews," he replied coolly. "The _Daily Prophet_ can read our essay in _Potions Monthly_ like everyone else. We will need to begin composing it right after we start the next batch for St. Mungo's."

Hermione, who still held considerable resentment towards the _Prophet_ , smiled brightly in response. She couldn't quite believe everything that had transpired. She'd soon be a published co-author in the most prestigious and respected potion journal in all of Europe. She had figured it would take years of research before she got to that point.

"I did want to apologize for the board's behavior earlier today," he added in a sincere tone. "They were completely out of line for attacking you the way they did."

She was bit taken back by this. She hadn't considered their treatment any harsher than she probably deserved. It was, however, considerate of him and rather sweet to apologize on their behalf, though she chose not to share that particular sentiment with him at present. "Thank you. It was humorous to watch them backpedal like first-years after you scolded them." His light chuckle danced around them momentarily before being whisked away in the wind.

As they neared the castle, Hermione smirked when she saw Draco waiting outside the school's entrance. He was sitting ramrod straight on the third step, looking bored as he studied his manicured nails. His blond hair was shining almost iridescently in the fading orange sunset, creating a picture that vividly reminded her of the elder Malfoy being surrounded by the light of the potion's transformation the day before. The magnitude of the weekend's events crashed down on her again. She looked up at the dark-haired wizard's sleek form beside her. "Severus?"

"Yes?" he asked as he continued to trek towards the school, carefully calibrating his strides to match the petite witch's far shorter ones.

"Thank you for taking me with you this weekend." He turned to her with a slightly raised brow, causing the tips of her ears to grow warm. "I know I've said that before, but witnessing the potion's effects and being a part of rectifying Lucius' life and the life of that woman at the Ministry is an experience that I'll never forget or ever be able to top."

He nodded solemnly, understanding how she felt as he looked back at the blond boy that strongly resembled his father. "You're welcome," was the only viable response.

"Why are you sitting out here, Draco?" Snape asked as they approached the stoop.

The boy shrugged as he stood up and dusted off the seat of his robes. "I wanted to make sure that the two of you made it back, seeing as you've both been so easily distracted as of late. All the business to attend to and whatnot."

The professor's expression was inscrutable. "I assure you that Miss Granger and I could have found the castle without you standing guard."

"Dinner's about to start and there's bound to be people swarming all over in there. Did the two of you really want to go in together alone?"

Hermione wasn't buying the Slytherin's altruistic act. "Come off it, you were just afraid to go in there by yourself."

Draco gave her a scathing yet calculated glare. "A Malfoy would never be afraid of anything so trivial, Granger. Perhaps you've confused me with Longbottom."

Severus smirked, though he made sure he was out of the witch's peripheral vision when he did so. He was all too familiar with her staunch loyalty to the bumbling Gryffindor. There was a good chance she'd smack the pure-blood for disparaging him.

Hermione glowered darkly at the blond but refrained from kicking him in the shins. "Don't talk about Neville that way. He's got more bravery in his little finger than most of your Housemates combined."

Just as Snape was preparing to break up what was sure to be a nasty little quarrel, his godson surprised him by chuckling lightheartedly. The friendship that had sparked between the two former rivals was an interesting one. He didn't completely understand it.

The Head Girl's frown deepened. "What are you laughing at?"

"You," Draco replied, without the slightest bit of derision in his voice. "It seems I know you better than I thought."

"What?"

"I was trying to rile you on purpose, Granger," he said with an arrogant grin. "I thought Longbottom would serve as a good catalyst and I was right. You're quite the underdog champion."

Her brow creased. "Why are you purposely trying to tick me off, Malfoy?"

"Because if we stroll into the school all lovely-dovey, people are going to be suspicious. I'm sure that there are already all sorts of rumors flying around about why the three of us were conspicuously absent today. I, for one, don't like the idea of the whole bloody school thinking we're in some sort of twisted love triangle."

Hermione snorted at the absurdity of that thought, though it wasn't too terribly off-base from the truth. She did see his point, though. They had left the castle as near enemies; pandemonium would break out if they were to return as best mates. "You could have just told me that, you know?"

Draco smirked. "Yeah, but that wouldn't have been as much fun."

She rolled her eyes in response just as the tower clock chimed overhead, alerting everyone within a three kilo-meter radius that it was dinner time. Severus stepped forward at that moment and ushered the pair up the stairs. "Come along, children," he drawled patronizingly.

Hermione stuck out her tongue at him and then sprinted up the stairs, leaving the two wizards behind. They were such prats. Typical snarky Slytherin bastards. And Merlin help her, she adored both of them.

The Potions Master shook his head at the witch's cheek. "You should be careful, Draco. She really could hex you into oblivion."

"I was relying on the fact that you were here to protect me."

Severus looked up at the curly-haired witch, who was standing at the top of the stairs and smoothing out her robes in an attempt to look presentable before entering the school. She turned and smiled down at them, the last remnants of the setting sun playing across her warm features. "Against _her_?" he asked in an unusually soft tone. "Don't count on it." 


	22. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO**

Once both Slytherins had scaled the stone steps, Snape reached out and opened the massive front doors of the castle. Draco muttered, "Here goes nothing," under his breath as the three of them stepped inside.

The cacophony of chatter hit them first, like a tidal wave of noise, as the doors closed behind them, sealing them into the din. As Malfoy had predicted, there was a multitude of students milling about the vestibule, talking and laughing as they leisurely made their way to dinner. More than a few curious passersby gawked at the trio where they stood in the entryway.

A small group of third-years stopped dead in their tracks in front the Potions professor, wide-eyed, opened-mouthed, and terrified like he had just announced a pop quiz that they hadn't studied for. Severus sneered at their ridiculous expressions. It was as if they had assumed his absence was going to be permanent and his sudden reappearance had just crushed all of their dreams in one fell swoop. Ungrateful nuisances. "What are you staring at? Go to dinner!"

The abashed children scurried away in the direction of the Great Hall as if their lives depended on it. Hermione chuckled under her breath, noticing that a fair few students that hadn't been amongst the chastised group migrated away from them as well, as if on instinct. She didn't blame them.

"It's nice to see that your warm and fuzzy disposition wasn't altered by this weekend's events, Professor," Draco remarked snidely.

The Head Girl's escalated laughter, in response to the sinister glower coming from the dark-haired wizard, was cut off sharply by a familiar chorus of voices shouting her name. She turned in time to see Harry and Ron racing down the grand staircase, pushing younger witches and wizards out of their way and nearly tripping over their own robes in their haste. Ginny followed closely behind them but at a more polite and cautious pace. Ignoring the twin groans that issued from either side of her, Hermione smiled brightly as her friends bowled their way through the sea of students still in the entrance hall.

"Hermione!" Ron panted as they drew close. The boys tackled her in unison, physically pushing Draco aside and forcing a soft gasp of air from her lungs as they crushed her in a hug. Ginny caught up with the group and grinned at the odd tableau.

"Where have you been? We didn't think you'd ever get back!" Harry exclaimed, pulling back from his female best friend and passing a cursory glance over her from head to toe to ensure that she was unharmed. Satisfied that she was still in one piece, he shot an accusatory glare at each of her travel companions just to be safe.

Draco smirked coolly at the bespectacled wizard's ire, thinking of the rude awakening he was in for when he learned of the girl's whereabouts for the past two days. His scarred head really was going to explode under that distastefully untidy mop of hair of his. "Settle down, Potter. We've returned her safe and sound."

Harry was on the verge of delivering a nasty retort when the blond threw an incendiary bomb on the fire by sliding his arm around Hermione's shoulders and giving her a peck on the cheek. He knew that it had been his idea to appear as detached as possible when they returned, but in the moment, irritating the Boy Wonder was far more enjoyable. She turned sharply with a cocked brow. "Later, Granger," he said with an obvious wink before swaggering off towards the Great Hall.

Severus' expressionless mask very nearly slipped as he chuckled inwardly at his godson's antics. As much as he disliked anyone fawning over the witch, he greatly enjoyed the shocked looks of disgust currently on her friends' faces. In the moment between the younger Slytherin's departure and the outburst he knew was forthcoming, he placed his hand on the small of his apprentice's back and leaned in ever so slightly. "I hope you enjoy your dinner, Miss Granger." His tone was low and velvety, meant only to be heard by those in their immediate vicinity. He swiftly walked away before anything more could be said, traveling cloak billowing out behind him. The slight pang of guilt he felt at sacrificing her to the proverbial lion's den was fleeting. It was her home and she could handle herself.

Despite the fact that the two rapidly retreating men had just made her night infinitely more complicated, she watched them fondly for a split second before turning her attention back to the assembly in front of her. Their expressions ranged from disgust to bewilderment. She bit her lip.

Harry was the first to recover from the shock of seeing his best friend molested by the two vilest Slytherins in the entire castle. He grabbed the witch's hand roughly and jerked her towards the Great Hall. "Come on, Hermione. We need to talk."

He didn't release or lighten his grip on her fingers until he had drug her all the way to her customary seat at the Gryffindor table. In her peripheral vision, she could see the two redheads following close behind them. It was the second time in as many hours that one of the boys in her life had decided she wasn't capable of following them on her own volition. She'd be annoyed by the heavy-handed treatment if she wasn't so nervous about the onslaught that she knew was about to befall her.

"Okay, what the _hell_ is going on?" Harry demanded loudly as soon as the foursome was seated.

Hermione blanched as a few curious heads turned in their direction. She whipped her wand out of her sleeve and muttered a hasty, "Muffliato," before giving the wizard a placating smile. "Please calm down, Harry. It's not what it looked like."

"So you're not shagging the two most detestable wizards in the school?" he hissed. "Because that's what it bloody well looked like."

She forced herself to take a deep breath instead of exploding at such an accusation. It had stung but she knew that he hadn't meant it the way it had come out. He was just angry, worried, and confused. "No, of course I'm not," she replied in as calm a tone as she could muster. "Draco was only joking and Professor Snape was just being civil."

"Oh, so it's _Draco_ now, is it?"

Ron jumped into the conversation before his irate best mate could say anything more insulting. This was his specialty of sorts. He knew Harry so well that he could now predict what the wizard would likely do or say before he did or said it. It was a bit like chess, actually, and he had been outmaneuvering the boy for years. "Why would he joke like that? And with you of all people?" he asked. "He kissed you, Hermione."

"I'm sure he did it because he knew it would drive you both crazy. If the roles were reserved, I could see either one of you doing the same sort of thing to piss him off." She sighed and poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice from the pitcher on the table between them. It was obvious that the time for her first revelation had come — and it was doozy. She took a deep breath. "Draco and I have become friends of sorts."

"What?!" Harry and Ron both shouted in perfect, astonished harmony, testing the strength of her hastily-erected privacy charm.

The Head Girl glared at both of them. She seriously didn't want the entire hall's focus drawn to their end of the Gryffindor table. None of what she had to say was intended to be heard by anyone outside of the four of them. "Keep your voices down!"

"What do you mean you're _friends_ with him? He's been our enemy for seven years!" Harry spat, struggling to lower his tone.

"He's the son of Death Eaters!" Ron added, hitting the table with his fist and rattling a few of the dishes laden with food that they had yet to touch. "It was never proven that he didn't follow in their footsteps either!"

A bit of fire flashed in Hermione's eyes but it was Ginny who piped up this time. "If you two prats would shut up, maybe she could explain!"

The younger witch hadn't said a single word until now. Unlike the boys, she preferred to pay attention to the small details, listen to explanations, and gather information before getting riled up about something or making rash decisions. The events of her first year at Hogwarts had taught her that running headlong into things, unarmed and uninformed, wasn't wise, even if it was the favored tactic in Gryffindor.

The boys immediately fell silent, as if they had been reprimanded by Molly Weasley instead of her youngest child. Hermione shot the girl an appreciative wink then took a sip of juice to steady her nerves before addressing their concerns. "Draco and I talked a good deal this weekend. There are a lot of things that we never knew and even more that we got wrong. He was never a Death Eater, for one, and he thought Voldemort was just as vile and crazy as we did."

"How can you possibly know that?" Harry asked, eyes still burning with barely-concealed rage.

"Voldemort killed his mother, Harry. She died to protect her son from him," she replied, knowing that the similarities wouldn't be lost on the scar-headed boy. "And they tortured his father within an inch of his life and left him for dead. He's been really sick ever since. We aren't the only ones that the war changed."

The right chord had been struck and she saw the storm in his emerald orbs alter slightly. "What are you…" He shook his head slightly. "How do you know all that happened?"

"Because he told me; they all did."

"I don't give a damn what happened to his Death Eater parents," Ron interjected. "Malfoy's still a right foul git." He snagged a drumstick from a silver platter of chicken that had just appeared and took a bite. Ginny shot him a disgusted look and he glared back at her. "What? It's the truth."

Hermione briefly closed her eyes. She had anticipated this reaction of course, but it didn't make it any easier to endure. When she glanced up again, her gaze was drawn to the blond across the dining hall who was deep in his own discussion with a cloistered group of seventh-years. She had no idea what he was telling them but wondered if he had planned on mentioning their friendship. If so, she wondered if he would receive the same resistance that she was currently encountering. Probably so. None of the Slytherins liked her.

"Look," she said firmly, forcing her attention back to her own table. "I know that it doesn't make a lot of sense to you, but Draco and I _are_ friends now. I don't expect you to like it and I don't expect you all to become mates with him either. But I do expect you to respect me enough to accept it." Her tone brooked no room for misunderstanding or doubt as to her seriousness on the matter.

Harry frowned at the curly-haired witch. She wasn't a rash person. She wasn't the type to forgo seven years of hostility in a single weekend without a damned good reason. He had to be missing several intricate pieces of the puzzle. "Okay, let's forget about your newfound perversion for a minute. What exactly happened this weekend? Start back at the beginning."

Hermione nodded at the slight concession the wizard had made and quickly served herself a plate of roast chicken and vegetables. It suddenly felt like ages since she had eaten lunch. "What did Professor Dumbledore tell you?"

"Nothing at first," Harry replied, mimicking her actions and filling his own plate if only to keep up appearances to the rest of the room. He didn't feel the least bit hungry. "When you weren't back by the time dinner was over last night, the three of us went to ask for his help."

"Actually, the two of them tried to break down his door, barged into his office, and demanded to know where you were and what Professor Snape had done with you," Ginny corrected with a grin.

"It was obvious that the git had abducted you and was forcing you to stay with him against your will!" Ron cried by way of an explanation of their assault on the Headmaster. He shot a dirty look at Snape over his shoulder for emphasis.

Hermione couldn't help but giggle at how completely wrong the redhead was. "I told you that I was going with him to help with some research. He didn't kidnap me."

"You also said it'd only take a few hours. You were gone all bloody day!" the freckle-faced boy exclaimed, waving the stripped chicken bone in his hand unconsciously.

"Dumbledore told us that he had just talked to Snape and that you were going to be spending the night at Malfoy Manor," Harry continued, ignoring Ron's outburst.

"At which point both of them completely lost it and starting shouting," Ginny added with a smirk. "It was quite funny, actually. The Headmaster just sat calmly behind his desk and twinkled at them."

"Yeah, well, after we calmed down somewhat and were forced to choke down half a bowl of lemon drops, he explained that you and Malfoy — who we hadn't even noticed was missing — went with Snape to test some potion. He said that the experiment had run late and that you wouldn't be returning until this evening."

Ginny giggled around her fork. "That was when my daft brother decided that either Snape or Malfoy Senior must have put you under the Imperius Curse because you'd never _willingly_ miss classes. Dumbledore actually chuckled at that brilliant theory."

Ron scowled at his sister as he heaped mashed potatoes onto his plate. "After that he refused to tell us anything else. He said we'd have to get the details from you once you got back."

Hermione huffed. She had hoped that the Headmaster would've been a little more forthcoming with them about the specifics of the situation, to relieve some of the burden from her if nothing else, but under the circumstances she supposed that she should be grateful he had told them anything at all. It was difficult as she was still a bit miffed at the elderly wizard for not informing her about the whole apprenticeship debacle.

"So what are the details, Hermione?" Harry asked before tentatively taking a bite of the food in front of him.

She pushed a broccoli floret around her plate for a moment, trying to decide where the best place to start would be. She would have to admit to some of the half-truths she had told them lately, a necessity that caused the ball of dread in her stomach to reform. "Remember when I stayed back from Hogsmeade last weekend?" All three of them nodded. "I ended up helping Professor Snape with an experimental potion he was brewing that day."

" _Why_?" both boys asked in near-perfect synchronization, neither being able to comprehend why anyone would willingly spend additional time in the dungeons.

Ginny was a little less judgmental of motive and little more curious about opportunity. The older girl had told them that she had been in the library that day. Or had they just assumed as much? She couldn't remember the specifics but she certainly hadn't told them that she had been brewing potions with Snape all day.

It was Chaser's question of "How?" that Hermione decided to answer. "I went to his office to return that blasted disciplinary card that Ron stole." The redhead wizard blanched at the realization that he had been culpable in any of this. "When I got there, Professor Snape was in the middle of brewing. I was intrigued so I asked if I could help him."

"Of course you did," Ginny replied with laugh. She thought of the missive from the Potions Master that she had delivered a few days ago. The witch's enthusiasm to help the odious man had been evident. It was obvious now that that incident and the current tale were interconnected.

"He developed a medicinal cure for victims of the Cruciatus Curse!" Hermione exclaimed, pride unknowingly suffusing her words. In her opinion, that statement alone should've been enough to explain everything. Who wouldn't want to witness something so extraordinary?

Harry's eyes widened and he sat the glass of pumpkin juice in his hand down before he dropped it. "Why would Snape be brewing something like that?"

"Probably trying to cover up one his hood-wearing mate's crimes," Ron sneered.

Hermione glared at him, barely resisting the urge to throttle him for such a remark. Her ability to put up with their disparagement of Severus had grown dangerously thin after everything that had transpired. What the man had managed to create was nothing short of phenomenal. It would literally change the wizarding world, saving countless lives in the process, and they were still acting as if he were evil incarnate. It raised her mental hackles.

"Shut. Up. Ron," Ginny snapped tersely, grounding out each word deliberately. They were never going to get the full story if he didn't stop interrupting like a moron. She turned her complete attention back to the Head Girl. "What was the potion for, Hermione?"

"Lucius Malfoy," she replied, trying to stamp out her sudden anger. It wouldn't help matters right now. "Voldemort tortured him so much for his failure at the Department of Ministries that his nervous system completely crumbled in on itself. He was a complete mess."

"You saw him like that?"

She nodded. "That's why we went to Malfoy Manor to administer the potion. He was too ill to travel. He had a seizure just from standing up when we got there." Both the boy's mouths dropped open slightly and Ginny gasped. After another sip of juice, she told them all about her initial meeting with Lucius, including a detailed description of his physical condition and his uncharacteristically pleasant behavior towards her.

"Why was he being so nice to you?" Harry asked suspiciously. "He's just as prejudiced about blood status as Voldemort was. And why the hell was Snape trying to cure a Death Eater anyway? I thought he was on our side."

Hermione stabbed a carrot and stuffed it in her mouth to avoid snarling. It was convenient how he could remember that the former spy was one of the good guys when it suited him. She mentally counted to ten. "Lucius has changed drastically; he's an entirely different person than who he used to be," she said quietly, doubting that it mattered what she said in defense of the pure-blood. "He apologized profusely for his past behavior. I think he's spent the last two years agonizing over the mistakes he's made and rethinking his opinions."

"Well that's real comforting," Ron said sarcastically. "He's been an evil prick since forever. He and his cronies tried to kill us at the Ministry — and nearly succeeded too — but you know, since he's sorry _all's forgiven_!"

"Please, Hermione," Harry implored in a deathly cold whisper, interrupting his best friend's tirade. "Please don't tell me that you're all chummy with Lucius Malfoy too." He hadn't missed her familiar use of the Death Eater's first name and he pushed his plate of uneaten food away, repulsed.

The witch's cheeks flushed and a hint of sadness crept into her eyes. She knew in her heart that her relationship with the boy hero was strong enough to withstand anything, but that didn't mean that things couldn't get painful between them. It had before and it likely would again. "I won't tell you if you don't want to hear about it."

The raven-haired wizard suddenly threw his hands up in defeat. "What a relief! I'll be sure to sleep well tonight then. My best friend has obviously gone completely _barking_ mad and is consorting with all sorts of Dark wizards, but at least I don't have to hear about the details if I don't want to!" He gave her an incredulous look.

They stared at each other for several long moments before the green-eyed boy cracked a small, exasperated grin. It was all too fantastical not to be at least somewhat humorous. She smiled sheepishly and they both dissolved into a short-lived fit of laughter as the dinner dishes disappeared and were replaced by copious amounts of desserts.

"So what happened next?" Ginny asked impatiently as the boys helped themselves to the treats.

Hermione shook her head that their suddenly ravenous behavior. "Professor Snape administered his potion." She leaned over and pinched off a piece of Harry's treacle tart, popping it into her mouth before describing the transformation she had witnessed and Lucius' condition afterwards. When she finished, they all looked shocked and properly awed.

"Bloody hell," Ron said in a low whistle.

"That's impressive… even for Snape," Harry admitted somewhat reluctantly. He glanced over his shoulder at the greasy git only to find the wizard's black eyes already fixed on their table. He scowled and turned back to his housemates.

"It was really incredible to witness," Hermione was saying, wonderment flushing her cheeks. "I've never seen anything quite so _magical_. I know that you all think I'm crazy, but I wouldn't have traded the experience for anything. The witch's transformation today at the Ministry was just as amazing."

"Wait, you went to the Ministry today?" Harry asked in confusion. This was an unexpected piece of the puzzle but it did explain what had taken the girl so bloody long to get back to the school.

She nodded. "We went to register the potion. It needed to be done right away so that St. Mungo's could start administering it to the patients there. We had to go through an entire formal presentation with a committee and everything. And a woman was brought in from the hospital as a test subject. She had been suffering from the curse for over a decade and was physically worse off than Mr. Malfoy had been."

"Why did you have to go?" Ginny asked skeptically, just as the dessert dishes vanished from the table. "To the Ministry, I mean. Why didn't Snape just send you and Malfoy back to school instead of dragging the two of you along?"

Hermione smiled unconsciously. "That story is even more interesting." She stood up and stretched, eager now to be back in the familiar comfort of the Gryffindor common room. "Let's go upstairs and I'll explain."

Ginny and the boys stood in agreement and began to make their way through the sea of classmates all trying to file out of the hall simultaneously. Once the three of them were in front of her in the progression, Hermione glanced over her shoulder. Severus was sitting in his customary chair at the high table even though at least half of the staff had already finished their meals and left. He wasn't eating but looked to be nursing a cup of tea while he scanned the noisy room like a vulture, just waiting for a student to do something foolish. His roaming gaze halted when it fell on her. She bestowed him with a grin and could see an answering glint flash in his dark eyes from across the hall. After a moment, she forced herself to break the connection and follow after her friends.

* * *

When the foursome entered the Gryffindor common room, they made their way over to the small sitting area under the windows. Several groups of their housemates were already scattered around the cozy quarters, talking or playing various games. There were even a few witches and wizards that were attempting to work on homework in the slowly escalating tumult, but by the looks of it, they were mostly first and second-years that obviously hadn't found more entertaining ways to spend their evenings in the drafty castle yet.

Ron unceremoniously tossed two giggly little girls out of the armchairs in their corner before plopping down in one of them. Hermione and Ginny perched on top of the long table that ran beneath the bank of stained glass windows, letting their legs dangle over the edge. Harry took the remaining armchair and cast another privacy charm around the group before looking expectantly at the Head Girl.

Hermione cleared her throat, which was already starting to feel scratchy from overuse even though she was far from finished with her explanation. "After Mr. Malfoy was cured, Professor Snape wanted to keep him under observation overnight just to be sure nothing went wrong. He was going to send Draco and I back after dinner but we convinced him to let us stay."

"Why would you do a daft thing like that?" Ron asked in exasperation. "You _volunteered_ to stay overnight with Snape and both Malfoys in a house that's probably infested with Dark magic?" His blue eyes widened as if to make his point. "You do understand that that's _insane_ , right?"

Hermione would've laughed if she wasn't desperately trying to come up with a viable explanation to give him. The real reason that she'd been so eager to stay at the manor had been her desire to spend more time with Severus, even though at that point in the evening she hadn't anticipated anything happening between them. He had been so different away from the castle and the change had been intoxicating. But she knew that there was no way in hell her friends could handle _that_ answer right now.

She tried to shrug nonchalantly. "Draco wanted to stay and I went along with it. I felt invested in the experiment. If there had been any side effects or a relapse or something, I wanted to be there to witness it. And we were supposed to be back first thing this morning."

Harry rolled his eyes theatrically. Of course she would take such a dangerous chance on the pretext of a learning experience. She had been doing risky stuff for years, driven by an insatiable thirst for knowledge. It's what made Hermione… well, Hermione. "So at what point did you know you were going to the Ministry?"

"After Professor Snape Floo'd the Headmaster to tell him that we'd be spending the night. It was his suggestion that we go to the Ministry today instead of coming directly back."

"But that still doesn't explain _why_ you needed to go to the Ministry in the first place, Hermione," Ginny pointed out. Something was still missing to make any of this comprehensible.

The future Potions Mistress stared down at her shoes for a minute, watching them swing back and forth beneath the table. She was tired. It had been a long weekend of very high emotions and the residual weariness was starting to catch up to her. She suddenly wanted to get this discussion over with instead of dragging it out any further. She looked up, meeting all three of them in the eye in turn.

"There were a few reasons," she said and gave them a small smile. "Just let me just get through this without interruptions, okay? I promise I'll answer any questions you have once I'm done."

Harry and Ron looked at each other and seemed to share a silent conversation. She wasn't sure what it had meant but they both nodded in agreement when they turned back to her. She took a deep breath. Here went nothing.

"This past Saturday I went back down to the dungeons to help Professor Snape with the potion." Ron's eyes bulged slightly but he surprisingly managed to hold back whatever exclamation had been on the tip of his tongue. "The recipe wasn't complete, though. Snape had been researching it for almost two years — ever since Lucius Malfoy was cursed, I think — but he was still missing a cohesion catalyst. It was my suggestion that finalized the potion. That's why Professor Snape allowed me go to Malfoy Manor with him and why I had to go to the Ministry as well. He gave me partial credit for the potion and registered it in both our names."

She stopped for a second to gather her courage before delivering the final, bigger blow. In her hesitation, Ron's restraint faltered. "Did the whole lot of you get placed under a Confundus Charm this weekend?" he asked incredulously. "Why in the name of Godric Gryffindor's left testicle would that greasy bastard give you credit for anything, even if you deserved it?"

" _Especially_ if she deserved it," Harry corrected.

Hermione smirked. That was certainly true, until recently anyway. Still. "There's more, guys."

"Of course there is," Harry replied sarcastically, running his hand through the unruly spikes of his dark hair — a gesture that typically signaled frustration in the bespectacled wizard but that now reminded her of Draco's unconscious nervous habit. "Let's see, so far you've befriended ferret-boy and his evil-but-remorseful father, volunteered to help the bat of the dungeons _twice_ , willingly spent the night at _Dark Manor,_ and the man that has tortured us for years has suddenly grown a conscience and become a humanitarian. What else could've possibly happened? Did you have breakfast with the Easter Bunny?"

"What the hell is an _Easter Bunny_?" Ron asked, looking at his best friend quizzically.

Hermione ignored them both. "I found out what Professor Snape's been up to all term — all the detentions and everything." This shut the pair up and everyone's attention was fixed on her. She smiled. This was the big one. Once this part was out in the open, she'd be able to breathe easier, at least until the eventual confrontation about her relationship with Severus. But she wouldn't worry about that right now. That nightmare could wait until they got used to all the other changes, or possibly until after graduation, or maybe never. She'd decide later.

"At the beginning of the school year, he enrolled me in a trial apprenticeship. The so-called detentions were a kind of test, apparently, to see if we could work together without me killing him. He told me all of this last night and gave me the choice to continue tutelage under him or he would write a recommendation to any Master of my choosing. But an apprenticeship with him is better than I had ever hoped to secure. There was just no way that I could pass up the offer even though it meant two more years here in the castle. So I signed the official paperwork while we were at the Ministry." With slightly shaking fingers, she held out the material of her robes that held the silver pin Madam Avery had given her, idly realizing that none of them had even noticed it before now. "See?" It had come out all in one breath and she had rambled a bit in her anxiety but it was done. The cat was out of the bag. She bit her lip and waited for the deluge to hit her.

Ginny didn't say anything but leaned in to inspect the badge. The younger girl smiled at her, looking as if she had finally solved a riddle that she had been working on for weeks. It wasn't triumph in her eyes, per se, but something close to satisfaction.

Ron opened and closed his mouth several times as he tried to formulate a reply, causing him to resemble an odd, red-haired fish. Harry's reaction was by far the strangest, though. He laughed. He laughed loud and heartily, clutching his sides as tears leaked from the corner of his emerald green eyes. He made such a commotion, in fact, that several of their housemates turned to look curiously at the group under the window despite the privacy spell surrounding them.

Ginny giggled at the hysterical wizard but Hermione regarded him with concern, wondering if he was having a nervous breakdown. The boy had been dodging death since he was eleven years old and had managed to defeat the darkest wizard ever known but she had driven him to insanity with a single conversation.

Harry finally managed to compose himself after several minutes. As he dried his eyes with the sleeve of his robes, he noticed the others staring at him like he had just snogged a hippogriff. The tips of his ears reddened. "Sorry."

"What the hell is so bloody funny, mate?" Ron asked, goggling at him. "Hermione's lost her gobstones and signed her life away to the _Prince of Dark-and-Snarkiness_ and all you can do is laugh?"

He let out another chuckle and shook his head. "It's just that an apprenticeship with Snape is the perfect culmination to this ridiculous story. And it's _so_ Hermione. Who else would do something so mad?"

Ron growled in frustration. "I don't like it."

Hermione sighed. "You don't like what, exactly?"

"Any of it. _All of it_. You've always been the sane, level-headed one, Hermione — the one who always has a plan and thoroughly-researched reasons for everything you do. You go away for two days and suddenly nothing makes any sense."

The Head Girl gave him a sad smile but it was his sister who replied. "It's not really all that crazy. She's been talking about getting into a Potions program for months and months now. We all knew that she was planning to become an apprentice after graduation. She just started a little early, which is actually completely in character for the witch that starts studying six months before an exam."

Harry nodded slightly. He had to agree with the red-haired Chaser. He didn't like the specifics of the arrangement either. He would rather she study under just about anyone else in the entire world than Snape but it made sense in a weird way. Even the scheme of assigning detentions as a compatibility test made sense in its own perverse way. It had been a very Slytherin thing to do. At least now he could stop trying to decipher what the snarky bastard was plotting.

"But it's Snape! Have you all forgotten that point?" Ron said, looking around and not understanding why everyone was so damn calm. Ginny kicked him in the shin.

"He's a brilliant Potions Master — one of the top in the country," Hermione said, a light blush peppering her cheeks. "It's an amazing opportunity."

"But—"

Ginny kicked her brother in the shin again, harder this time, stopping his rebuttal mid-sentence. "Obviously Hermione has thought this out. If she's comfortable with Snape then you should just accept it and be happy for her. It's not like she's asking either of you two to work with him."

Neither of the boys knew how to respond to that type of reasoning so they remained silent. The Head girl smiled at the redhead's satisfied smirk. The witch had an innate ability to put the testosterone-driven sex in their places. Hermione had always assumed that it was a trait she had inherited from Molly who had managed to raise six sons before her. The skill had proved effective in in more ways than one, too, judging by the number of boyfriends the girl had had.

Thanks to Ginny's timely assistance, the rest of the evening passed by rather smoothly, all things considered. Hermione was so relieved to have gotten everything out in the open that she didn't even mind answering the thousands of questions that her friends had for her. She told them about the presentation and the beautiful witch that had been healed, about the requirements of her apprenticeship, about seeing Percy at the Ministry and the twins at the Leaky Cauldron, and about some of the interesting tidbits she had learned while at Malfoy Manor. Everything was heavily edited, of course, carefully omitting any details that may have hinted at her intimate affinity for a certain dark-haired wizard.

The group stayed in their little bubble in the Gryffindor common room for quite a bit longer, talking and eventually laughing. It had gotten late. Everyone else had gone to bed save for a lone fourth-year that had fallen asleep by the fire. And it had been an incredibly long day. Hermione was exhausted — mentally, physically, and emotionally — but she was elated that after all that had been said and revealed tonight, her best friends were still by her side. She hadn't really doubted that they would be — they had been through so much together — but there had been a few moments when she hadn't been entirely confident. The more insecure recesses of her mind had flashed back to their third year when the boys had been angry with her about getting Harry's broom quarantined. She had been so lonely during the weeks that they had refused to speak to her. A small part of her had feared a similar outcome tonight and was overjoyed to find that that wouldn't be the case.

In demonstration of their solidarity, both Harry and Ron hugged her and gave her a peck on the cheek before she finally headed up to bed. Hermione blushed at the affection and said her farewells from the landing before dragging herself up the tower's winding staircase.

When Hermione entered the blissful solitude of her private quarters, two things became glaringly obvious. First, her cat had missed her. Crookshanks had never been exceptionally lovable. He was incredibly clever and managed things that no normal feline could, but he didn't typically take notice of the humans around him, unless they were feeding him and even that wasn't necessary — he knew how to get into the school's kitchens by himself. But apparently in her absence, the half-kneazle had developed a soft and cuddly disposition and a desire for affection. He meowed loudly at the sight of her, jumped off the bed, and weaved through her legs, rubbing against her in a lazy figure eight. She reached down and picked him up and he immediately curled into her arms like a newborn and began to purr.

She chuckled and scratched him behind the ears. "I missed you too, Crooks."

The second thing that caught her eye was the small package lying on her pillow. She walked over and picked it up with her free hand. It felt like a book, wrapped inconspicuously in plain brown paper. The reign of Voldemort, the Rita Skeeter Bubotuber pus incident, and the opening of not one but _two_ Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, however, had instilled in her a healthy suspicion of parcels from unknown origins. She sat the bundle back on the bed and pulled her wand from her sleeve. Wordlessly, she cast several inspection charms. The package was from Severus and it had been warded to her magical signature. She smiled and threw her wand on the bed. He must have sent it to her rooms after dinner, probably by house-elf.

Crookshanks suddenly jumped out of her arms and curled up on her pillow, apparently having gotten his fill of human interaction for the evening. Hermione picked up the parcel and quickly unwrapped it, excitement rushing her pulse. Inside the paper was the little black book that they had used as a potion journal and a single sheet of folded parchment. She unfolded the letter and read.

 _Hermione,_

 _Though I'm sure it is an unnecessary task, I'd like you to read over these notes and refresh that substantial mind of yours as to the brewing specifics. We need to prepare a store of the Cruciatus potion for St. Mungo's and I would like to begin tomorrow evening. I am planning to start several batches simultaneously and expect your participation with more than taking dictation this time. We will put the time towards your required brewing hours._

 _As the first stage of the potion takes several hours to complete, please meet me in my private laboratory directly after your last class of the day. I will set the wards to admit you. We will likely need to eat our evening meal in the dungeons as well but I hope that the company will make up for the deplorable ambiance._

 _Until then,_

 _-Severus Snape_

Hermione grinned and read the short note a second time. It was the odd mixture of formal and intimate that she had become to recognize as the solemn wizard's unique style. One had to almost read between the lines to catch the compliments and veiled flirtation. It amused her and she was glad to see that the weekend's events hadn't turned him into a sappy, doting suitor. She didn't think that she would've been able to handle such an abrupt departure in character. He was a challenge and she loved nothing if not a good challenge.

Tucking the spikily penned missive into the front cover of the journal, she left them both on the bed and quickly undressed and pulled on her most comfortable pair of pajamas. As tired as she was, she wanted to read over the first half of the brewing instructions at least once before going to bed but knew that if she didn't change first, she'd end up sleeping in the clothes that she had already worn for two days.

Just as she was folding back the duvet and preparing to crawl into the sheets, a knock echoed through the room. Someone was at her door. For a split second, her heart raced thinking that it was the Potions Master that she had just been thinking about, but the rational part of her brain dismissed such a ridiculous idea. She crossed the room with a frown. "Who is it?"

"It's me. Let me in," came the reply of her female best friend from the other side of the wood.

Hermione went back to the bed and quickly tucked the journal into the drawer of her nightstand before un-warding the door and opening it.

Ginny smiled brightly. "Up for a bit of a chat?"

The older witch moved aside and let her visitor into the room. "I thought we just did that. For several hours actually."

The youngest Weasley plopped herself down on the large bed and crisscrossed her legs in front of her. "We did. But I got the distinct impression that you didn't tell us everything."

Hermione sighed inwardly and shut the door, casting an Imperturbable Silencing Charm along with her usual wards. She had the feeling that she knew what was coming and if she was right, she didn't want to chance anyone overhearing their discussion. Still, she wasn't going to give away anything that she didn't want to if she could help it. She turned back around with an innocent smile. "What do you mean?"

Ginny patted the bed, beckoning the other girl to sit. "Oh, I don't know."

She sat down at the head of the bed, folding her legs in a similar fashion. Crookshanks meowed from the pillow behind her and moved around to nestle into the space between her thighs. He gave her a sleepy, one-eyed glare before tucking his head in and being to purr. She smoothed down the fur along his side and looked up at the girl across from her expectantly.

"Everything made sense, of course, but it seemed a little too neat and tidy," Ginny said, watching as fine orange hairs rose into the air, released by the witch's ministrations. "Maybe it was the little display in the entrance hall earlier or maybe it's just intuition but I'm fairly sure that there's more to the story than you let on."

Hermione had somewhat expected as much. The redhead had the uncanny knack for knowing when she was being lied to — it was another of her inherited talents though she was sure that growing up with Fred and George hadn't hurt. She sighed. "What is it you want to know?"

The Chaser smirked victoriously at the concession. She knew that there had been something the girl wasn't saying. "First tell me about Lucius Malfoy. Did he really apologize to you?"

It most definitely wasn't the type of question that she had assumed would be forthcoming. She had no clue what the meaning behind it could possibly be either. But it was easy enough to answer. "He did. Several times actually. He was so different that had he not looked like himself, I never would have believed it was him. He was charming, funny, and surprisingly kind."

"Do you really think that he's sorry for all the stuff he put us through that night at the Ministry?" the younger witch asked quietly, her eyes suddenly downcast. "And everything else?" The last question came out more as a whisper than anything else.

The Head Girl was now looking at her in concern. She had no idea what was going on but something was obviously wrong. "I really do. He was very sincere. But why are you…" Her words trailed off as her brown eyes widened in realization. She put her hand to her mouth to cover the gasp that tried to escape. "Riddle's diary. I nearly forgot."

And she had. The ordeal with Voldemort's first horcrux had been nearly five years ago. It had been horrific at the time but every year at Hogwarts had brought with it some new dangerous adventure that had threatened to kill them. After a while her mind had had to file some of the more terrifying events away in order for her to have the courage to face new ones as they presented themselves. It had been the only way that she had managed to keep going. But the events of her second year, Ginny's first, hadn't affected her the way that they had impacted the girl sitting beside her. She had spent a large portion of that time petrified in the hospital wing while Ginny had been possessed by a piece of Voldemort's soul, causing her to do some truly revolting things. She knew that the entanglement with the diary had left a rather large scar on the girl's psyche — how could it not?

"Lucky you," Ginny replied, unshed tears glistening in her big eyes when she looked up.

Hermione laid her hand on the witch's folded knee. "I'm so sorry, Gin. I can't even begin to imagine what that must have been like for you." They had never really talked about it before to any great degree, but she had always gotten the impression that the redhead didn't really care to rehash the past any more than she did.

"It's okay. Done is done." The younger witch sighed and wiped away the single tear that had broken free. "I know that Lucius Malfoy wasn't the one that tormented me but without his interference, I would have had a lot fewer nightmares and might actually be able to remember my first year at Hogwarts."

Hermione nodded sympathetically. "If it's any comfort, I honestly believe that Lucius regrets everything that he did in service of Voldemort, even giving you that book. I think that he regrets ever becoming a Death Eater to begin with, actually."

Ginny sighed again. "I'm not sure that I could be as forgiving as you, but then again, I didn't see him suffering like you did."

"It was pretty heart-wrenching. He was in such a pitiful state. And they killed his wife. He probably would've been better off with that fate too, in all honesty. At least until Professor Snape's potion."

"Well, maybe one day I'll get the opportunity to meet the new and improved version," Ginny replied, an odd glint in her eye. "I think that an apology from him would go a long way towards closure with the whole Tom fiasco."

Hermione smiled and nodded at her friend again. "I might be able to arrange that one day, given the right circumstances. He gave me an open invitation to Malfoy Manor."

A suspicious smirk bloomed on the red-haired Gryffindor's face and her demeanor changed instantly. Gone were the tears and torment of the past, replaced by burning intrigue of the present. " _That_ brings up my second question. Which one of them are you shagging?"

The older witch's eyes widened dramatically. She hadn't expected such an abrupt change in interrogation or such bluntness. "Wh…what?" she stammered.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. It's obvious that more than potion testing happened this weekend. I told you, something doesn't add up. Something has changed. So who is it? After that kiss downstairs, my sickles are on Draco. He makes the most sense anyway."

Hermione blushed and shook her head. "I'm not shagging anyone. I told you; Draco and I have managed to form a weird sort of friendship, but _nothing_ else." She couldn't believe she was having this conversation _again_. Why did everyone think that she could be so easily swayed by the blond prat? He wasn't _that_ good looking. "The show in the entrance hall was purely to annoy Harry and Ron. Draco Malfoy is still an arsehole."

The witch's brown eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Really? There's nothing more going on between you two?"

"I swear." She held up her hand in affirmation and then giggled. "I did wear his pajamas last night, though, and I think that he accidentally saw me topless this morning."

" _What_?!"

Hermione jumped up, startling the bandy-legged part-kneazle out of her lap and eliciting a hiss as he slunk off towards the attached loo. Ignoring the disgruntled beast, she retrieved her robes from the desk chair and fished out the wizarding photographs from the pocket. She handed them to the redhead before reclaiming her spot on the bed. "He loaned me something to sleep in. He found it quite amusing to dress me up like a Slytherin harlot."

Ginny giggled as she flipped through the pictures. "Looks like you had fun."

"Oddly enough, I did. It was a really weird weekend but enjoyable."

The witch looked up with a dangerously arched brow. "So, if you started out the night in pajamas," she held up the photographic proof, "how did you end up topless this morning?" The Head Girl turned a vivid shade of scarlet and Ginny let out a delighted squeal that could've rivaled Lavender. "I knew it!"

"It's definitely not what you're thinking," Hermione said, her cheeks hot and her stomach churning.

"If you aren't shagging Draco," the younger girl said thoughtfully, completely ignoring her, "then it must be…" She tapped her pursed lips with the tip of her index finger as if in deep contemplation. In truth, the choice was easy. "Professor Snape?"

The Muggle-born's mouth dropped open with an audible pop. How in the hell had the witch come to the correct conclusion so quickly? Had she been that obvious?

Ginny squealed again and bounced up and down on the bed enthusiastically. "Oh my gods! Are you really sleeping with Snape?"

"No!" Hermione replied quickly, a bit affronted that she would assume that they had already slept together. She definitely wasn't ready for that step. Fantasies were one thing, losing her virginity was something altogether different. "I told you I'm not shagging anyone."

"Yet."

She blushed again. Her ears felt like they were on fire. "Maybe. Probably. I don't know. How did _you_ know?"

Ginny shrugged noncommittally while still grinning from ear to ear. "After Draco, Snape makes the most sense, I guess. I mean, it's Snape so it's weird, but you have been spending a lot of time with him lately." Her brow creased in consideration. "Come to think of it, you two probably have a lot in common, don't you? Potions and books and whatnot."

Hermione nodded, eyes shining. "There's so much more to him than anyone realizes. He hides so much behind that snarky demeanor of his."

The redhead's smile brightened again. She didn't understand the attraction — it was Snape for the love of Merlin — but she didn't need to. Her friend's happiness was so evident that it really didn't matter who or what was making her feel that way. Hermione was a smart girl — the smartest girl she had ever known — and was perfectly capable of making her own choices. And no matter how weird or downright icky those choices may be, Ginny knew that it wasn't her place to judge. It was her place to be a good, supportive friend. She grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her chest before waggling her eyebrows at the older witch. "So dish. I want all the smutty details!"

Hermione groaned and dropped her face into her hands, frizzy curls falling down like a curtain to shield her embarrassment. When she looked back up, her face was beet red but she was grinning. "Are you sure you want to know?"

The ginger-haired Chaser nodded enthusiastically. So Hermione told her. For nearly an hour she relayed the details of every interaction she and Severus had had over the last few days. She told the witch things that she would've never mentioned to Draco, despite his meddling. And it felt good. Her only confidants lately had been men and it just wasn't the same. She had needed this — a chance to gush and gossip and just be a normal girl, if only for an hour.

When she concluded her tale with Severus' words to her at the gates of the school, she felt light and giddy and supremely thankful for her determinedly nosy friend. Ginny, on the other hand, was shocked. Her freckled cheeks were flushed and her mouth had sagged open. She couldn't believe that the rule-abiding Head Girl had been so gutsy or that their cantankerous Potions professor had been so…wow. "Bloody hell," she murmured in an accurate and unintentional impersonation of her brother. "He's always had a strange sort of dark allure to him. You know, those hands and that voice, but who knew he was so…" She still couldn't come up with an apt description.

"Utterly amazing," Hermione suggested with a dreamy sort of sigh, filling in the blank.

Ginny giggled. She had never, in all the years that she had known her, seen the older witch act like this. Even when she had been dating Viktor Krum, international Quidditch star and gorgeous hunk of a man, she hadn't been this effusive. It just wasn't in her nature. "Oh Merlin, you've got it _bad_. Are you in love with him?"

Hermione was taken aback slightly and she shook her head, as much in reply as in an effort to clear the sudden saccharinity from her mind. "This all just started. I admire him. I'm undeniably attracted to him. I can't stop thinking about him and I'm looking forward to seeing what happens between us. But not love — not yet."

Ginny nodded, causing a single fiery tendril to escape from behind her ear and fall across her face. She blew it away with an audible puff. That statement had been more in character with the studious witch — analytical, logical, and undoubtedly true. "Well, it's a little crazy and a little unorthodox, but makes sense in a sick and twisted way," she teased. "If you're happy, Hermione, I'm happy for you."

The Head Girl smiled brightly. "Thanks, Ginny."

"And now that you've captured your tall, dark, and sinister wizard," Ginny said with a wicked grin, "you can help me ensnare mine."

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. "You've got a tall, dark, and sinister man?" The last boy that Ginny had been fooling around with had been a sixth-year Ravenclaw but that had ended a few weeks ago. She hadn't realized that the girl had set her sights on someone new already.

"Tall? Yes. Sinister? Somewhat. Dark? More like blond — _platinum blond_."

The older girl's brow furrowed for a fraction of a second before her eyes widened again. "Draco?"

The wicked grin was back and the witch made a sound like someone would after taking a bite of something truly, decadently delicious. "And since you two are friends now…"

"No way. No. _Bloody_. Way," Hermione replied emphatically. "I am not setting you up with Malfoy. Harry and Ron would kill me and the twins would help hide my body."

"Oh, come on. I can understand you mooning over Snape, of all people, but you can't understand me liking the Slytherin Sex God? That's hardly fair."

Hermione scrunched up her nose in distaste. "First, that's a ridiculous nickname. Second, I'm not saying that I can't understand it. I mean, he's an arrogant bastard but he is handsome. I'm just saying that I'm not gonna be held responsible for the two of you getting together."

"I'm not asking you to plan our wedding," Ginny said in exasperation. "Just throw out a few hints. See if he'd be interested. I just want to know if I'd be rewarded or humiliated if I made a move on him."

Hermione sighed in the face of the girl's best puppy dog eyes, a look that was only truly effective on the male population. Still, despite the fact that the boys would be positively livid, she could see the unlikely pair getting along well together. Draco was a prat but there was caring and compassion buried deep under his haughty exterior and Ginny was the type not to put up with his bullshit. She would set him straight and struggle would be hilarious to watch. "I'll think about. But I'm not making any promises."

"Good enough for me," Ginny replied with a dazzling grin. She had had her eye on the Prince of the Dungeons for quite some time. Girls were constantly gossiping and giggling about him in the school's loos between classes. No one in Gryffindor had dated him yet but she knew plenty of girls in other houses that had and had heard firsthand accounts of how _good_ he was. Intrigue had led to a slight obsession but she hadn't thought until now that it would ever be a possibility. Not only was he a Slytherin and the archenemy of her brother and friends, but he was notorious for his blood prejudice. She was a pure-blood but Malfoy's ilk had considered her family _blood traitors_ for as long as she could remember and that distinction was nearly as derogatory as Mudblood in their eyes. But hearing that he had become friends with Hermione, a member of the Golden Trio and an actual Muggle-born, seemed like an omen. It was her green light to entertain all the fantasies she had been having.

Hermione smiled and then yawned involuntarily. As enlightening and enjoyable as their girly tête-à-tête had been, exhaustion was seeping in at an alarming rate. "I think that that's all my secrets, Gin, and I am insanely tired. Can we call it a night?"

Having gotten all the juicy details that she had been seeking and more, Ginny graciously agreed, said goodnight, and left the Head Girl in the quiet sanctity of her bedchamber. The witch tucked herself into the sheets, pulled the Potions journal out of its hiding place, and settled back against the pillows to study. It had been an interesting evening — one that, all things considered, had gone far better than she could've hoped. She briefly wondered how Severus' night had fared; sure that it hadn't been nearly as eventful as her own. He had probably sequestered himself in the privacy of his personal chambers after dinner and remained there all night. She smiled to herself as she imagined him peacefully reading by a roaring fire like she had found him the night before. With a contented sigh at the reminder of what had followed that chance encounter, she flipped open the book in her hands and began to read. She was sound asleep before turning the first page.


	23. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE**

The obnoxious sound of the alarm clock woke Hermione entirely too early the next morning. When her eyes popped open, startled by the loud alert, the only thing she could see was a fringe of orange fluff dangling off her forehead. Crookshanks had apparently decided to perch on top of her head in the middle of the night.

Exhaling forcefully to blow the fur off her face, the witch tried in vain to sit up without disturbing the feline. When she lifted her head from the pillow, the part-Kneazle rolled down into the indent she had left behind. He meowed loudly, hissed, and righted himself. With a severely disgruntled expression on his squashed little face, the cat bounded off the bed and landed atop the nearby desk in a single leap. He growled lowly and curled up on the empty corner closest to the wall.

Hermione ignored the beast's unfortunately frequent behavior and silenced the incessant alarm with a flick of her wand. Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, she spotted the black potion journal lying open-faced on the floor where it must've fallen after she had drifted to sleep. She stood and stretched the kinks out of her lethargic muscles before bending down to retrieve the discarded book. Glancing at the first page, she realized with a groan that she hadn't read more than a half dozen lines before nodding off.

It had been very late when she had started to study the brewing instructions and she had been incredibly tired. Still, she couldn't believe that she had fallen asleep so quickly. The intricate potion description should have been stimulating enough to keep her awake, let alone the fact that she would be required to put the knowledge to use that very evening when she returned to Snape's laboratory. The last thing she wanted to do was show up for the first official brewing session of her apprenticeship unprepared. She would have to find time to read through the journal at some point amongst her classes today, along with the make-up work that she had surely missed during her absence the day before.

With a sigh at how heavy her workload had suddenly become, the Head Girl headed to the shower. It was Tuesday so she wouldn't have Potions today. She wasn't quite sure if that fact made her feel sad or relieved. She already missed Severus' presence. After spending the weekend in his near-constant company, the absence of his dark and ominous form in her vicinity was off-putting. She desperately wanted to see him again, to kiss him again. Despite that desire, and honestly because of it, she knew that Potions class was going to be incredibly awkward until she managed to stop being so enamored with its snarky professor. She also knew that Draco would enjoy the dynamics at play entirely too much. Yes, maybe it was better that she wouldn't have to endure lessons in the dungeons today.

Once Hermione was showered and dressed, she slipped the journal into her booksack and headed downstairs. Harry and Ron were waiting for her in the common room. They were acting a bit clingy after last night but she was too tired to question it. She walked with them down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Ginny was already at the head of the Gryffindor table when they got there. The redhead grinned as they took their places around her. "Good morning, sleepyheads."

Hermione grimaced slightly at the girl's singsong voice. She didn't typically have an issue with early mornings, but she hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep and as a result wasn't in the greatest of moods. Ginny, on the other hand, who hadn't gone to bed any sooner than she had, was being entirely too chipper. It wasn't unusual for the younger witch to be bubbly at breakfast but she seemed to be laying it on a bit thick this morning.

Refraining from asking if her exuberance was due to a certain blond, Hermione poured herself a cup of hot coffee with cream. She needed caffeine far more than she needed gossip at the moment. She raised the mug up to inhale the invigorating aroma and glanced over at the staff table. Snape's chair was noticeably empty. She knew that it wasn't uncommon for the professors to skip meals or eat in their private rooms — the one in question was typically absent from the dining hall several times a week. But she had hoped to see him this morning before her classes began, if only covertly from across the room. She glanced up at the magical ceiling of the Great Hall, which was reflecting a depressing gray sky overcast with heavy clouds.

With a quiet sigh, the Head Girl turned her attention back to her friends and the steaming mug in her hands. She took a grateful sip and let her eyes flutter shut for a minute.

"Didn't sleep well, Hermione?" Ginny asked, slightly more subdued after noticing the older witch's demeanor. She only drank coffee during exams, after staying up too late to study.

Hermione yawned and opened her eyes. "I slept fine, just not nearly enough."

"Ditto," Harry said, stacking pancakes on his plate from the mountain of them in the middle of the table. He looked over at the sleepy witch. "At least you can go to bed early tonight. No more detentions with Snape, right?"

Ginny snorted and nearly choked on her juice. Hermione shot her a warning glare before turning to the bespectacled wizard, who thankfully didn't look like he had noticed anything amiss. "No, no more detentions. But I will be in the dungeons most of the night. We have to start brewing batches of the Cruciatus potion for St. Mungo's." She took another warming gulp from her mug.

Harry frowned. He supposed that this was how it would be from now on. With an apprenticeship running congruent with her normal classes, all of the witch's free time would be spent with Snape. But it wasn't like he could complain about them curing torture victims. Leave it that greasy bastard to figure out a way to irritate him even while being charitable and benevolent.

"Who knows," Ginny piped up, a devious grin on her freckled face, "Snape might lighten up on Gryffindor this year since he'll be _mentoring_ one."

Hermione could've strangled the girl for the salacious connotation in her voice. She was enjoying this a little too much and being awfully brave for someone who was harboring a crush on a wizard that the boys hated nearly as much as Snape. She elbowed her hard in the hip, knowing that the movement was hidden behind the buffet of pancakes and sausages.

Meanwhile Harry snorted at the suggestion that Snape would ever be anything but vicious to their hourglass. "Yeah, right. That'll be the day thestrals fly out of my—"

"That's a great idea!" Ron interjected at that precise moment. Harry looked highly affronted and Ron's ears turned scarlet when he realized what he had inadvertently implied. "Not the thestrals, you git. I mean if Hermione's gonna be working with the old bat, she might as well try to butter him up."

Ginny bit her lip to keep from commenting under the baleful gaze of her best friend. Harry just shook his head. "It won't work."

"Oh, come on," the freckled wizard replied, cutting into his enormous stack of pancakes. "You know how overbearing and pushy she can be."

"Hey!" Hermione cried indignantly.

"No offense, 'Mione," Ron said with a grin. "I just meant that you could play little miss perfect apprentice for a few weeks and you know, lull Snape into thinking that that's your real personality. Then wham!" He punched his fist in demonstration. "Start nagging him to be nicer to us. It'll work perfectly."

"I do not nag, Ronald," she replied tersely as she slid a few fluffy pancakes onto her own plate. "I'm just very good at convincing people that I'm right."

Harry shook his head again and swallowed the mouthful of sausage that he had been chewing. "It won't work. Not with Snape. Hermione could shag the snarky git and he'd still deduct points from Gryffindor."

The witch couldn't stop the scarlet tidal wave of embarrassment that washed over her face as Ginny guffawed loudly and Ron pretended to vomit onto Harry's pancakes. She knew the boys would assume that the fierce blush was born out of disgust at such a notion, but disgust was far from the feeling that Harry's words inspired. The problem was that they were true. Hermione was sure that even if their budding relationship progressed to a physically intimate level as she hoped it one day would, Severus would still be overly critical of her House and partial to his own. Nothing, not even sex, could ever change that ingrained loyalty.

No one talked much after Harry's disturbing conjecture. Since there really wasn't a good way to follow up such thing, they all quietly tucked into their food. The Head Girl drank two cups of coffee during the course of breakfast and still would've preferred to use her pancakes as a pillow instead of eating them. When the tower clock announced the start of the school day, Hermione yawned and stretched before parting from her friends and groggily heading off towards her first class. She had no clue how she was going to get through the day.

By the time she reached the Arithmancy classroom though, she was feeling a little more energized. Maybe the coffee was finally catching up with her or perhaps having to traverse a thousand staircases that shifted at random had stimulated her blood system. Either way, she was adequately awake when she took a seat at her usual desk at the front of the room and began to rummage through her overly-crowded booksack for her supplies.

There were only seven students taking N.E.W.T. level Arithmancy including herself. Due to the size of the class versus the size of the room itself, everyone had their own table instead of having to share as they did in most classes. The extra space came in handy since the subject often required the use of large number charts and a multitude of reference books. Since she always sat alone at her private desk, Hermione was a bit started when she saw a flash of blond in her peripheral vision as she pulled her book out of her bag.

"Morning, Granger," the wizard drawled lazily, taking the seat beside her.

She turned with a smile. It was actually nice to see him. "Good morning, Draco." She glanced behind her at their other classmates filing into the room. "You're going to stir up rumors by sitting with me, you know."

He shrugged, unfazed by the possibility of gossip despite his concern the previous night. "I wanted to hear how the _Chosen One_ ," his lip curled disdainfully, "took the news."

She unrolled her homework from last week and spelled the parchment flat with her wand before turning back to him. In hush tones she replied, "Considering that they've hated you, your father, and Snape since first-year, it could've been a lot worse. Your little performance in the entrance hall didn't help things, though."

The blond chuckled and took out his own assignment. " _That_ was fun. Potty's shock was priceless." She rolled her eyes. "So you told them _everything_?" he asked quickly in an attempt to avoid the lecture he could feel coming — one on the Boy Wonder's innumerable good qualities. He seriously doubted that the witch had told her moronic friends about the more scandalous events of the weekend. Surely he would've heard the screaming all the way in the dungeons if she had.

Before Hermione could answer, Professor Vector glided through the door, closing it with a snap. She strode up to the front of the room and flicked her wand at the chalkboard, transcribing the day's lesson on the previously blank surface. The professor turned to face the class with a warm smile. If she was surprised by seeing the Head Boy and Girl sitting together, her countenance didn't betray it as she announced, "Today we'll be continuing our discussion on the properties of zero."

"I didn't tell Harry and Ron _everything_ but Ginny guessed," Hermione whispered when Vector turned her back to them. She flipped open her textbook to the correct chapter and slid it to the middle of the desk so that they could share since it was obvious the wizard wasn't going to change seats.

Draco smirked. He had been right, mostly. But the Weaslette guessing such an outlandish thing was a bit of a surprise. He had been there to witness it and could hardly believe it. "She always did seem brighter than the other two, which isn't saying much."

Hermione rolled her eyes again but her mind flashed back to the conversation with the redhead the night before. She hadn't promised the girl that she would talk to Malfoy about her supposed crush but Hermione knew she was going to anyway. They'd be cute together, in a clashing extremity sort of way, and both of them had been supportive of her own unconventional relationship. Setting them up, if the wizard was amiable to it, was the least she could do. But subtlety wasn't really their style. She glanced at his profile. "She thought you and I had gotten together at first."

He flashed her an arrogant grin and ran his hand through his hair. "Of course she did. I'm a much better catch than S—" Hermione halted his words with a pointed look, reminding him they weren't alone and that even whispering wasn't eavesdrop-proof. "—ome of your other choices," he finished lamely.

"Ginny thought so too." She paused to wait for Vector to collect their essays and then leaned over close to the blond to add, "I think she has a bit of a thing for you."

Draco's brow arched sharply in surprise and Hermione snorted a bit too loudly to avoid drawing attention. The professor turned to frown at the pair of them. "As lovely as I think your little display of inter-house unity is, Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy, if the two of you continue to talk during my class, I'll be forced to separate you."

"Sorry, Professor," Hermione mumbled as the tips of her ears grew warm. She hated being reprimanded. The blond pure-blood smirked at her, obviously enjoying her discomfort. She stuck her tongue out at him impishly and they spent the rest of the period attentively listening to the older witch's explanation of null.

When Arithmancy was over, Draco waited as the Head Girl packed up her supplies and the rest of the class filed out of the room. They both had Herbology next and it seemed silly not to walk out to the greenhouses together. He refused to admit that after spending so much time together he had grown to enjoy her company. But he did want to get some clarification on what the witch had said about the Gryffindor Chaser. Her words had buzzed in his brain throughout the professor's entire lecture.

"So Red knows about you and Severus but the other two don't?" he asked as they made their way through the crowded corridor outside the classroom.

Hermione scowled and bumped her shoulder into his taller frame. "The whole bloody school is going to know if you don't stop talking so loudly."

He smirked. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, Granger. I'm just trying to confirm the facts. Besides, I bet that most of these morons don't even know who that is."

The witch glanced around them. No one seemed especially interested in what they were talking about but she did notice a cluster of younger girls watching them and whispering amongst themselves. Judging by their expressions, she was fairly certain that the gossip being started was going to be about her and Draco, not her and the Potions professor. At least it was the lesser of two evils.

"So what were you saying about the Weaslette?" Malfoy asked as they began down a moving staircase, trying to sound more indifferent to the topic than he actually was. It wasn't every day that he heard a Gryffindor had the hots for him, even as popular as he was with the witches. But Granger didn't need to know that nor did she need to know that his opinion of his rival House's attributes were slowing evolving because of her.

Meanwhile Hermione could just about imagine what Ginny would do to the boy if she heard him use that particular nickname. "Well to start, I definitely wouldn't call her _that_."

The blond chuckled smugly. "And what makes you think I'd want to call her anything? Just because I've decided to tolerate you does not mean that I want to befriend the whole of Gryffindor."

She huffed in annoyance. "Don't be a prat. I'm not asking you to be friends with anybody. But Ginny could hex your balls off so you should be careful."

"Point taken," Draco conceded. He did try not to underestimate fiery females when he could help it. He tended to get slapped when he did - point in bushy-haired case walking beside him. "So she's got a thing for the _Slytherin Sex God?_ "

They pushed their way out a side door of the castle and into the gloom. Winter was coming and the air was starting to carry a chill. Hermione scowled at the wizard beside her. She wasn't sure from one moment to the next why she liked the pompous tosser. The irony that he had just used the same gross nickname that Ginny had used the night before wasn't lost on her. They crossed the courtyard to the bank of greenhouses. "The fact that you just referred to yourself like _that_ should change her mind if she has any sense, but yes," she replied. "She's interested in you."

Before any more could be said, Harry and Ron came rushing out of greenhouse eight and hurried over to them. They both looked annoyed. Hermione sighed and braced herself for their arrival.

"Come on, Hermione," Harry said, grabbing her hand and pulling her away from the pure-blood. He didn't mean to keep manhandling the witch but he really disliked seeing the two of them together.

Ron shot Malfoy a dirty look, saying, "Neville is saving us a table. We're planting Alihosty seeds."

"Ooh, neat!" she exclaimed, shaking out of the Seeker's grip but otherwise unperturbed by their behavior. She knew things would go back to normal before too long, they always did. She flashed Draco a parting smile and followed the two Gryffindors into the humid classroom.

"Are you sure that there's nothing else going on between you two, Hermione?" Harry asked in a skeptical tone when they reached their planting station.

She gave him an exasperated look. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Then why were you walking with him?" Ron asked as he passed out gloves to everyone.

"He's in my Arithmancy class," she replied, not understanding what the problem was. "We both had to come to Herbology so we walked together."

"It makes you look like a couple," Harry said, a thin layer of disgust shadowing his features.

Hermione rolled her eyes and sat down on one of the wooden stools. "I walk with you and Ron all the time and I'm not shagging either of you prats."

Neville chose that exact moment to show up at their worktable, holding a tray with their allotment of vivid red seeds. He looked up at her with a raised brow, obviously only catching the very end of their conversation. The trio laughed at the wizard's confused expression and tried in vain to explain what he had missed until Professor Sprout's appearance caused a hush to fall over the greenhouse as class began.

Once all their seeds had been planted and the tower clock chimes had released them, the group made their way to lunch. When they entered the Great Hall, Hermione's eyes were immediately drawn to the staff table. The sight of Snape in his customary seat caused the ball of nerves in her stomach to unfurl. She hadn't even realized that it was there until she felt the relief of it dissipating. Obviously she had missed the man's presence even more than she had recognized. She tried to catch his eye but his attention was focused on a large book propped up in front of him as he ate. She forced herself to look away before anyone could notice her staring.

Ginny was again already at the Gryffindor table when they got there. Taking a seat next to her, Hermione pulled the potion journal from her bag. She desperately needed to read through the brewing notes before she was due in the dungeons later. She also was hoping that the pretense of studying would remove her from the lunchtime chatter — she just couldn't sit through another conversation about Draco or Snape right now.

Hermione did want to let Ginny know that she had spoken to Malfoy about her interest though, but she couldn't let the boys overhear them. When both Harry and Ron were distracted by the food appearing to fill the long table, she murmured a quick privacy charm under her breath, encircling just herself and the redhead beside her.

Ginny looked at her curiously when she felt the buzzing of the spell fall over her. Hermione kept her eyes forward and filled her plate. "I told Draco that you want to shag him," she said, angling her face so the boys wouldn't notice that her mouth was moving but no sound was coming out.

The fiery-haired Chaser caught on to the act quickly and held her cup up to her mouth before responding. "You told him that? Are you nuts? What did he say?"

Hermione smirked at her unusually squeaky tone. "No, I didn't tell him that, but it would have served you right after this morning."

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it," Ginny replied, not really sorry at all. "What did you actually tell him?"

The older witch raised a sandwich wedge in front of her mouth, keeping her eyes on the boys. "I told him that you liked him. There wasn't really time to ask his opinion but I'll try to ask him later."

Having finished filling their plates, the wizards across from them started talking and Hermione quickly dismantled the bubble of privacy. The last thing she needed was for them to get suspicious about something else. She picked up her book as Harry, Ron, and a brightly grinning Ginny started discussing Quidditch tactics for that evening's practice. Satisfied that she wouldn't be expected to participate in their conversation, she flipped open the journal to the first page.

She had only been reading for a few minutes, interspersed with bites of lunch, when she felt the unmistakable sensation of being watched. She glanced at her tablemates but they were still immersed in discussions of flanking maneuvers and wind currents or some such nonsense and weren't paying her any attention. Her eyes cast around the room, still feeling the prickling impression on her subconscious. Unsurprisingly she found the source of the sensation coming from the far end of the staff table and the dark and fathomless gaze of the Potions Master.

When their eyes met across the hall, a tingle shot down Hermione's spine. She gave him a crooked smile and the corners of his mouth twitched before he looked away. Her cheeks flushed as she hid a brilliant grin behind the pages of the man's journal.

As lunch was ending, Hermione slid the little black book back into her bag. She glanced up to find Harry sneering in her direction, startling her with its intensity.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

Hermione turned her head to see the blond pure-blood standing directly behind her, an arrogant smirk playing across his lips.

"Want to walk with me to Ancient Runes, Granger?" Draco asked, ignoring the riled wizard across the table.

"Do you two have every bloody class together?" Ron asked incredulously.

"As a matter of fact, yes, we do," the Head Boy replied with a touch more civility than any of them, himself included, could've predicted. He curled his lip in distaste as an afterthought to maintain his aloofness.

Hermione gave her friends a coddling smile. "I'll see you in Defense later, okay?"

Harry, who was still eyeing the Slytherin warily, gave her a curt nod in reply. She was thankful he wasn't going to force her to explain once again that she and Malfoy were friends — she was running out of ways to say it. She turned to Ginny and immediately noticed the girl's flushed freckled cheeks. She bit back a giggle. Ginny almost never got embarrassed by the opposite sex anymore.

Draco stepped to the side to allow the Head Girl to get up and glanced down at the younger witch he now stood behind. After what Granger had told him, he had thought the redhead all during Herbology and partially through lunch. He knew that she was a hell of a Quidditch player and supposedly a good kisser, if the rumors that he had overheard were true. He couldn't deny that she was beautiful, especially for a Gryffindor, and he had witnessed firsthand how spunky she could be when he and the members of the farcical Inquisitorial Squad attempted to detain her and the other D.A. soldiers in his fifth year. That Bat-Bogey Hex of hers was gnarly. But despite their less than pleasant history, Draco found himself intrigued by the idea that the witch was interested in him.

"How's your day been, Red?" he asked in a silky tone when the girl glanced back at him.

Ginny, who had barely been able to resist leaning back against the handsome wizard's undoubtedly hard body as he stood behind her, smiled flirtatiously. She instantly adored the way he called her _Red_. "It's been good. How about yours?"

Hermione, not missing a second of their interaction, frowned and grabbed the blond's arm to try and pull him away from the table. "We better hurry. Don't want to be late," she said in clipped tones when he tore his gaze off of the Chaser to look at her questionably. There was no way in hell she was going to let them do this here, in front of Harry and Ron. The two wizards would freak out completely and she knew that the blame would immediately be pinned on her for befriending the Slytherin in the first place. If Draco and Ginny were going to get together, they would have to do it somewhere more private.

She flashed a parting smile at the table before leading the disgruntled blond out of the hall by his arm. He shook out of her grasp just past the double doors and smoothed down his robes fussily. "What the hell was that about, Granger?"

"You were flirting with Ginny."

"Well spotted," he drawled sarcastically. "I was under the impression that you wanted me to. Isn't that what this morning's conversation had been implying?"

Hermione readjusted her booksack on her shoulder as they mounted the marble staircase. "If you're interested in her, then yes. But you can't do it in front of Harry and Ron. I'll never hear the end of it."

Draco smirked. Irritating the dunderhead duo would be one of the bigger perks of dating the redhead as far as he could see it. The prospect almost made the whole idea worthwhile in and of itself. "You're always taking away my fun, Granger."

* * *

Ancient Runes provided no surprises and proceeded as usual. After class Hermione hid herself away in her favorite armchair at the rear of the library. She had an hour and a half long free period and at least three hours' worth of work to cram into it. She started off by finishing a read through of the brewing notes on the first half of the potion's preparation. The section was over twenty pages long and her handwriting had been incredibly cramped. She tried her best to memorize all the ingredients and the order in which they were to be added but she knew that she wouldn't be able to remember it all. Hopefully Snape would be in an uncharacteristically patient and forgiving mood this evening.

Having finished with the instructions that would be used immediately, Hermione moved on to the various essays and charts that she needed to work on. They would have an entire week to wait before finalizing the potion so she'd have plenty of time to commit the second half of the journal to memory. She managed to get her most pressing assignments finished before it was time for her to make her way to her last class. The rest of her academic to-do list would have to wait until the following day.

In Defense Against the Dark Arts that afternoon, Remus taught his N.E.W.T. level pupils the incantation and wand movements for a variant shield charm that, when perfected, would bounce whatever spell is cast back onto the caster, instead of simply deflecting it like a normal shield charm. After stressing the importance of not casting any truly harmful curses at one another, he had the class pair off for a practical exercise.

Since Hermione, Harry, and Ron had already mastered this particular spell and had used it effectively in actual dueling scenarios, they helped to teach their classmates. It was a bit reminiscent of the days of Dumbledore's Army. Harry partnered with Neville, Ron teamed up with Dean and Seamus, and Hermione offered to work with Draco and Blaise.

Remus was more than a little surprised when the two Slytherins readily agreed to practice with the Head Girl. Inter-house unity was typically nonexistent, especially between the two rival Houses. He did know, however, that the curly-haired witch had spent the weekend with the Malfoy boy so perhaps alliances had been formed. Still, to be on the safe side, he stood back and watched as Hermione erected her shield. He wasn't entirely convinced that the wizards wouldn't try to use illicit curses against her. He therefore had to bite back a chuckle when Zabini was lifted into the air by his ankle and Malfoy's legs started flailing about in an odd, rhythm-less jig. Both boys yelped in surprise but seemed amused by their respective predicaments.

"Well done, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor," he said approvingly before moving on to check the progress of the rest of the class.

Hermione grinned at the professor over her shoulder then proceeded to release the hexes afflicting the Slytherin boys. She convinced Draco to try the spell next and he managed a faint ward that reflected Blaise's Full-Body-Bind but crumpled beneath her finely-honed disarming charm. She coaxed him through several more executions and by the third attempt, the blond was able to fully defend himself against his would-be attackers.

When it was Zabini's turn, the tall Slytherin was able to produce a perfect shield on his first try but nearly choked on his own laughter as both Granger and Malfoy went completely rigid and toppled like dominoes against one another.

"While it's amusing to see your classmates subjected to their own jinxes, do not forget that in a true duel the reflected curses will, more often than not, be malicious in intent. Whether it's a stunning curse or a slicing hex, the caster will surely be looking for retaliation after being hit by their own spells," Professor Lupin called over the tumult of laughter and yelps as Neville was thrown backwards across the room and Ron tried in earnest to reverse the Bat-Bogey Hex plaguing his nostrils. "You must remain focused to keep your shield in place and yourself protected."

After a thoroughly enjoyable and physically exhaustive hour and a half, the tower clock's chimes reverberated through the stone walls, releasing the seventh-years from their last class of the day.

"Thanks a lot, Granger. My arse is completely sore now," Draco complained as he got up from the floor for what felt like the hundredth time of the afternoon. Try as he might, he hadn't managed to get past the girl's defenses and it was nettling.

Hermione snorted. "It was your jinxes, not mine." He grumbled inaudibly and dusted off the seat of his robes.

Zabini smirked at his housemate's obvious irritation before turning to their female partner. She had impressed him, both with her undeniable skill and her willingness to coach them. She seemed like an alright witch, for a Gryffindor anyhow. He held out his hand to her. "Thanks, Granger. That was fun."

She smiled and shook his proffered hand. "You're welcome. Always enjoyable to see Draco knocked on his bum."

The mocha-skinned boy laughed before clapping the glowering blond on the back. "Come on, Malfoy. Let's go see if Pansy will kiss your battle wounds."

Draco grabbed his booksack and grimaced in disgust. "I don't want that witch anywhere near my arse!"

Hermione chuckled as the pair disappeared down the hall. By the time she looked around, the rest of the seventh-years had already left as well, save for Harry and Ron who were helping Lupin tidy up the disarrayed classroom. She went to join them.

"That was a great class, Remus," Harry was saying as the professor flicked his wand at a demolished table that someone had crashed into, instantly repairing the splintered wood. "Neville picked it up pretty quickly too."

The older wizard smiled warmly. "He's come a long way since I taught him in his third year."

Ron snorted, picking up a scattering of parchment that had been flung off of the professor's cluttered desk. "Remember that Boggart of his? Snape in an old lady dress? That was priceless!"

Remus' knowing gaze fell briefly on Hermione, who turned a barely distinguishable shade of pink as she studied an apparently fascinating speck of dirt on the floor. He smiled. "Yes, Professor Snape warned me against causing his likeness any sort of degradation this year."

Harry and Ron both laughed and grabbed their bags. The room was back to its usual, vaguely chaotic state. "You coming, Hermione?" Harry asked as they headed towards the door.

She glanced at Lupin then back at the boys and shook her head. "I need to talk to Remus for a minute and then I have to go down to the dungeons to start the potion."

"Right. Forgot about that," the bespectacled wizard replied with a scowl. Snape and his damn miracle cure.

"We'll see you at dinner, though, right?" Ron asked, not liking the idea of the girl being stuck in some dreary potions lab all night any more than his mate.

Hermione knew with certainty that she would not be making an appearance in the Great Hall that evening. She knew this because she had a dinner date of sorts with Severus Snape. She was not, however, about to tell either of them that. "I don't know. Probably not. The beginning phase of the potion took us several hours the first time."

"So that snarky bastard—"

"Harry…" Lupin interrupted from the back of the room in a mildly chastising tone.

The dark-haired wizard's scowl shifted slightly. "Sorry, Remus." He cleared his throat and began again. "So _Professor Snape_ isn't even going to let you have dinner?"

Hermione smiled. One of the nice things about the former werewolf was that he didn't let the boys get away with disparaging the Potions Master in his presence. "Yes, I'm sure that I'll be able to have dinner. I just meant that we'll probably eat in the laboratory or something. You know, in between ingredients or whatever."

Neither of the younger wizards looked especially happy at this news but they seemed to realize that there wasn't anything that they could do about the situation. Instead they nodded tersely in acceptance, said their goodbyes, and took their leave. At least they had Quidditch practice to distract them for the better part of the evening.

Remus finished levitating a stack of misplaced books back onto a rickety bookshelf in the corner then turned to find the girl still standing in the middle of the room. After the last private conversation they had had and her impromptu adventure off school grounds, he wasn't terribly surprised that she had wanted to speak to him alone. He didn't mind as he was admittedly curious about what had transpired between her and Severus.

He leaned back against the front of his desk and smiled at her. "So how was your weekend away?"

Hermione slid the front table back into place and sat down on top of it. It hadn't been that long ago that she had sat in this exact location, complaining about the ridiculous detentions that Snape had been assigning her. How quickly things could change. She grinned back at the wizard. "Unbelievably odd, actually."

He smirked, fairly sure that that was a gross understatement. The witch had been alone with a former Death Eater, a boy that she had hated for years, and a man that she had admitted to fancying. _Odd_ hardly qualified. "You don't say. I see that you and young Mr. Malfoy have formed a truce of sorts."

Hermione nodded. "We have. Seven years and one extraordinary weekend but I think I've finally convinced him how much we have in common."

Remus smiled kindly. He knew from his own rocky childhood what kind of change could be elicited from the bonds of friendship. James and Sirius had befriended him despite his affliction at the time and it had altered his life — had made him feel normal amidst a situation that was anything but. But he was also aware of the paths that were formed through bullying and ostracism. He had witnessed their destruction firsthand and hadn't done anything to stop it. He still wore that guilt around is heart. "That's really wonderful. That boy has been through a lot as of late — more than anyone his age ever should — and could really use a good friend. I'm proud of you for crossing the rivalry lines."

The witch looked bashful and his grin took on a familiar wolfish quality. "And what about you and Severus? Did that situation resolve itself as well?" He had already suspected the answer and the deepening of the color upon her cheeks confirmed it without words. "I see. So my thoughts on his behavior were correct then?"

Hermione attempted to will away her embarrassment. Lupin had known of her feelings way before they had come to fruition and he hadn't deemed her crazy then. She could trust him implicitly. "Not entirely," she finally replied. "He granted me an apprenticeship. The detentions were his odd means of testing out the waters, so to speak."

"An apprenticeship? Really?" he asked, mildly shocked. He couldn't imagine Snape willingly committing to more time with a student — any student — unless his initial theory had played a part in the decision. He was pretty sure that he hadn't been that wrong about the man's intentions. He looked at her skeptically. Her cheeks were still a dusty pink. "That blush isn't from being made an apprentice, Hermione."

The color on her face intensified again and her hands began to fidget nervously with the hem of her robes, but she didn't look away from the defense professor. "You were right about the other thing, too. Partly. I think." Her brow creased. "I haven't figured out yet if there was an attraction there before I seduced him or not."

The older wizard's eyes widened in surprise and then he laughed. "You seduced him?" The powerful little witch could be unpredictable when she made up her mind about something. He had seen that particular characteristic in action before. He had witnessed her disarm the very same professor they were currently discussing at the tender age of fourteen because she had decided to fearlessly believe a werewolf and an escaped convict.

"It's a really long story, but yes, sort of." She smiled crookedly. "I finally convinced him to at least see where things might lead between us. I mean, who knows really. We could be ready to kill each other in a month."

Remus chuckled again. "Yes, that's a strong possibility."

"The boys don't know, of course — they'd _kill_ me if they did. We're gonna keep it all under wraps for now. No need to cause a scandal."

The older wizard's hazel eyes lit up with a mixture of compassion and understanding. There was nothing worse than having to fear outside rejection over your heart's desires. He had battled similar issues with Dora. He had denied his attraction and her feelings for a long time because of his fear of what society would think, given his condition. Love was a messy, complicated business. "Forget about all that. There's only one thing that you need to worry about right now. Are you _happy_? Does he make you happy?"

Hermione tried to seriously contemplate his question. The simple answer was yes. The recent developments with Severus made her ridiculously happy. When he had held her yesterday at the gates of the school, she had felt at home in his arms. But things weren't that simple. There was so much to worry about, first and foremost Harry and Ron's reactions. But were their opinions more important to her than her own happiness? Certainly not. Would their revulsion at learning the truth be awful enough that she'd have to choose between her friendship with them and a relationship with Severus? No. They would be mad, they would shout and tell her she was crazy, they might possibly even stop talking to her for a time, but eventually they would accept it. After last night's discussion, she was certain of that. So with all things considered, was she truly happy?

The curly-haired witch smiled incandescently at the former werewolf, her feelings obvious in the shiny gold flecks of her chocolate eyes. "Yes. He makes me very happy."

Remus returned the girl's smile and dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Then everything else will eventually work out."

They chatted about the events of the weekend for a few more minutes before Hermione decided that she really had to head down to the dungeons. She knew that Snape had expected her to come directly to his laboratory as soon as her last class was over, but the fifteen minutes she had delayed in the defense classroom had been important. She hoped he'd understand but still hastened her pace through the corridors, her excitement at seeing the cranky wizard on par with her desire not to be unduly tardy.

As she was hurrying through the entrance hall on the way to the dungeons, a few younger students were headed outside, no doubt to enjoy some of the last days of tolerable weather before winter took over the Scottish Highlands. When she passed by the doors that they had left standing ajar, she glanced out at still-green lawn that was peppered with roaming students killing time until dinner. Along the stone path that meandered through the school's flower garden, she caught a flash of silver blond. She paused a second to take a better look and could indeed see Draco walking amongst the barren rose bushes that had already gone dormant for the year. And he wasn't alone. Ginny was walking beside him, talking animatedly. She was beaming as she spoke and from her angle of perspective, Hermione could just discern a smirk playing across the Slytherin's lips.

Hermione smiled at the sight. _That_ certainly hadn't taken long. And Harry and Ron were nowhere to be seen so at least Draco had heeded her earlier request. She could hardly wait to grill Ginny for the details later.

Remembering her own clandestine meeting, she started off again in the direction of the Potions Master's lair. When she reached his office, the door was open and the room was empty. His note the previous night had said to meet him in the lab itself and that the wards would be altered to admit her. He hadn't given her a password or any further instructions. Relying on the insignificant information that she had, she walked to the back corner of the office and stared up expectantly at the jars of suspended potion ingredients. Nothing happened. With a small frown she tried to remember how Snape had made the door appear the last time she had entered the laboratory with him. Unfortunately, most of her senses that day had been solely focused on him after the dream she had had the night before. All she could recall was him flicking his wand towards the wall of shelved specimens. Without a better idea, she pulled her wand from her sleeve and mimicked the actions of that vague memory.

Thankfully, whatever magic was at play did indeed recognize her signature and a door materialized in front of her. Opening it and stepping through, she felt the wards wash over her as she entered the empty antechamber. One more hidden door to go and she'd be in Severus' company again. She swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling nervous at the prospect.

Standing there, Hermione realized — far too late to do anything about it — that she hadn't even stopped to check her reflection in a mirror before coming down here. She had been in classes all day and the last one had involved being repeatedly thrown to the floor, dangled in the air, and petrified. She probably looked a fright. Gods, she wished that she was better at girly things, like Lavender and Parvati. She quickly smoothed down her robes the best she could and attempted to run her hands through her mass of frizzy hair, regretting not applying Sleekeazy's that morning.

Once she had pulled herself together to the best of her very limited abilities, she approached the far end of the small chamber. Here she distinctly remembered Snape muttering a password in a tone so low that she hadn't been able make it out even though she had been standing directly behind him. She didn't have a clue how she was supposed to circumvent the glaring lack of a password now. Having no other option, she raised and flicked her wand a second time.

As it did a moment ago, the movement worked and a stone archway appeared before her, framing the last entrance that separated her from the wizard she knew was waiting on the other side. Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and opened the door. The pristine chamber that was revealed beyond the threshold was exactly as it had been three days ago — perfectly organized, spotless, and supremely impressive. The sight, however, didn't have the slightest effect on her this time because standing in the middle of the room was a man that drew her complete and total focus.

Severus had been not-so-patiently waiting for his apprentice for over twenty minutes. He hadn't wanted to begin the preparations for the potion without her, seeing as this evening was to be considered a teaching venture. He had tried to busy himself but had soon resorted to anxiously pacing the stone floors of the laboratory. If he were honest with himself, he knew that his impatience wasn't strictly due to the amount of work that needed to be done or his dislike of being made to wait. It had been nearly twenty-four hours since he had been able to speak to the curly-haired witch and he had found that he didn't care for the feeling that the estrangement had caused. When he heard the door open, his pacing halted and he turned to watch her enter.

Hermione gazed into the deep darkness of his eyes from across the room. Her heart was racing and the butterflies that she thought had been evicted took flight in her stomach once again. She wanted to rush to him and throw her arms around him, but her nerves had rooted her to the spot. She wasn't even sure how the wizard would respond to such a thing. This was all so new and complicated.

When the girl didn't move or speak, frozen like a Nogtail in a beam of wandlight, the Potions Master arched his brow wickedly. "You're late, Miss Granger."

Hermione's mouth broke into a radiant smile at his teasing and she flew headlong into him, burying her face against his chest. Had he been a less sturdy man, she very well might have knocked him over. She breathed in the spicy and unique scent of him and sighed contentedly. "Gods, I missed you." She looked up at him quickly, a twinge of embarrassment in her eyes. "Did I say that out loud?"

Severus snorted and encircled the witch's petite frame with his arms. "Yes." She dipped her head back into his robes. He considered her a moment, amused and gratified by her behavior, before sliding his hand beneath her chin and gently drawing her focus back up. Her cheeks held the slightest hint of a blush but the softness in her chocolate eyes elicited a tiny spot of warmth to spread in his chest. "The feeling is mutual, witch." He reintroduced her lips with his own.

They shared a few sweet, lingering kisses before Snape gently untangled himself from his apprentice's embrace. She was far too bewitching. He would have to keep his wits about him in order to adhere to his plan of a chaste courtship. They also had a tremendous amount of work to do. He cleared his throat and let his teaching persona fall into place. "Ready to get started?"

Hermione sighed. As much as she was looking forward to actually brewing the Cruciatus Vomica Domintor potion, she'd much rather continue kissing its creator. She nodded anyway, knowing that they would have a very long night ahead of them if they didn't get started immediately.

The Potions Master set up four large titanium cauldrons and together they began to prepare the ingredients that would be required to create such a large amount of potion at one time. They'd each be in charge of two batches and the quantity of each batch would be double what was previously brewed. Hermione pulled the black journal out of her booksack, which she had stashed in an unobtrusive corner, and laid it open on the worktable between them. Standing face to face on either side of the cool marble workstation, they didn't talk for several long minutes as they each focused on chopping, scraping, and crushing the various potion components.

The persnickety Head Girl repeatedly reviewed the notes that she had previously transcribed and compared her work with that of the Master across from her. The results of her effort tonight would count for way more than a letter in a grade book. After it was completed, the potion would be sent to St. Mungo's and administered to the myriad of suffering patients there. She could not afford to make a mistake.

Once she had gotten into a confident rhythm, though, she chanced engaging the wizard in conversation. She had a lot she wanted to discuss with him, but for the time being, she chose a topic that wouldn't require much focus. "Did you know that Draco wants to become a Potions Master?" She glanced up to be sure that he had heard her and then quickly dropped her eyes back to the root that she was chopping lest she cut herself.

"He has for years," Snape replied, not taking his gaze off his own preparation. He wasn't accustomed to chatter in his laboratory, especially while he was brewing. This was one of the few places in the crowded castle where he could come to be completely alone in peace and solitude. That being said, he enjoyed the girl's presence down here and even found that he didn't mind her small talk as long it didn't interrupt their concentration on the task at hand. It was… pleasant to have someone around who actually _wanted_ to converse with him, instead of feeling obligated to.

"When he was young," he continued, "he would sit and listen to Narcissa and I discuss potion theories and techniques for hours."

It was still odd to think that Severus had had a part in Malfoy's life since infancy. The thought of the dour man teaching a toddling blond about Asphodel and Wormwood made her smile. "He's under the impression that Lucius wouldn't approve."

Severus pushed his allotment of chopped mandrake root into a neat pile and turned to retrieve two sets of mortar and pestles. He placed one in front of each of them before beginning to grind the next ingredient. "He doesn't. Or at least didn't used to," he replied in tempo with his ministrations. "Draco has been slated for a political career since before he was born."

Hermione finished up her own pile of roots and switched them out for the stone utensils that the wizard had just given her. She placed the specified amount of seeds into the mortar and began to work them into a fine dust. "Isn't he entitled to do what he's passionate about, what makes him happy?"

"That's never been a priority in most pure-blood families."

The pestle in her hand stopped and she looked up at him with scowl. The wizarding world could be so damn archaic. For someone not born into it, the shortcomings were immensely frustrating. He glanced up from his work and his lips twitched in amusement at her expression. She huffed and went back to grinding. "Well, that's stupid. Do you think that Lucius would consent now? You know, after everything he's gone through."

Severus went to the shelves of ingredients and pulled a few small bottles of various liquids. When he walked back to their shared table, he appraised the girl's neatly arranged piles of prepared components. Her work was impeccable and she had kept up with his quick pace despite their conversation. He was impressed.

"I don't honestly know," he said, answering her previous question. "I suppose it's possible but Lucius doesn't seem to know what to do with his own future at the moment."

Hermione nodded. She had drawn that same conclusion from her interactions with the blond elitist. Still, she couldn't resign herself to the notion that Draco wouldn't be allowed to choose his own path simply because it was the way of things. This was not the Middle Ages.

Snape studied the girl curiously for a moment before commenting. "You're inordinately concerned with his future all of a sudden."

She smiled at him, amused that he still seemed vaguely suspicious of her relationship with the younger Slytherin. Mixed in with that amusement, however, was a small pang of sadness. It was obvious that the man didn't really understand the concept of true friendship. "He's my friend. That's what I do for my friends. I worry about them and encourage their dreams." The older man nodded but remained quiet, an undefinable emotion floating through his ebony eyes.

Soon the time for unrelated chatter had passed. With the first few ingredients prepared, they began the base of the complicated potion. Working two cauldrons at once took a lot of concentration. The purified water had to be heated to a precise temperature and then different components had to be introduced at specific intervals and stirred a calculated amount of times in prescribed directions and angles. She hadn't properly understood the potion's intricacy while watching Snape do all the work. It was easily the most difficult project the young apprentice had ever been a part of. Brewing Polyjuice had been child's play in comparison.

Hermione followed the transcribed directions precisely but Severus also coached her through the steps. He didn't bark orders like in the classroom and he never once corrected her technique harshly. She felt honored, really, that he trusted her enough to help him. Yes, she was a Potions Mistress in training now, but a project of this magnitude was better suited to someone in the final days of their apprenticeship instead of the beginning weeks. Surprisingly, despite the staggering difference in experience and skill level, they worked exceptionally well together — like a fine-tuned machine.

They had been down in the laboratory for over three hours when Severus encompassed all four of the steaming cauldrons in a stasis spell. They were a little more than half way through the first stage of the brewing process. He knew that his apprentice had to be getting hungry. The evening meal had been long over in the Great Hall, but he had already anticipated that being the case and had made other, more enjoyable arrangements.

Hermione, who had been reading over the notes pertaining to the next ingredient, looked up curiously when she felt his charm suspend the progress of the potion. "What's the matter?"

He met her gaze. "I thought you might be ready for dinner."

"Yes, please," she replied with a grateful smile. Her stomach had been growling for the last thirty minutes. The corner of his mouth curled upward and he held out his arm gallantly. Hermione slid her hand around his sleeve and allowed the wizard to escort her out of the lab.

When they reached the antechamber between the laboratory and the Potions Master's office, Snape stopped, dropped her arm, and flicked his wand at the bare sidewall. Unsurprisingly another door appeared out of thin air, set back into a stone archway just as the others had been. Hermione wasn't entirely sure where it led but guessed that it was probably his private quarters. It made sense to have a passageway between his rooms, office, and lab without having to go out into the public corridor. He hadn't mentioned where in the dungeons they would be eating tonight but again, his personal chambers made the most sense. The logic of the situation, however, did not stop the stomach-dwelling butterflies from making a swift reappearance.

Severus flicked his wand a second time to drop the wards then turned the knob and pushed open the door. He faltered for a half second before leading the girl across the threshold with a hand on her lower back. It was, in his mind, an irrevocable step. He had never allowed a student in his private quarters in all the years he had taught at Hogwarts, not even his own godson. There also had never been a woman within these walls in all that time, outside of extremely infrequent visits from female coworkers. The divergence from the status quo made him anxious in a way that wasn't easily definable. He turned to see the witch's expression as she took in her surroundings.

Once through the door, Hermione slowly looked around the room. It was about the same size as Remus' study upstairs but that was the only similarity. Three of the four stone walls were lined with shelves crammed beyond capacity with books. Unlike the library at Malfoy Manor, where everything was bound in gleaming leather that looked brand new regardless of the age of the text, the professor's collection varied widely in size, style, and condition. Massive tomes with mottled covers stood beside stacks of weather-beaten, dog-eared paperbacks. Brand new volumes were stuffed haphazardly above rows of books that looked positively primeval. The hodgepodge spoke to her in a way that the Malfoy library could not. Lucius' collection was for people that loved the aesthetics of books. This room was for a person that loved the books themselves.

Other than the enticing shelves, there was a neatly appointed desk in one corner and a small cabinet in another, two other closed doors besides the one that they had entered through, and a roaring fireplace. The rest of the room was empty except for a small table in the center, flanked by high-backed chairs, and elegantly set for two, complete with candles and a single rose in a glass vase that strongly resembled a potion bottle. She looked up at the wizard beside her in awe. "You did all this?"

Severus swallowed, led the girl to the table, and pulled out her chair for her before taking his own across from her. He had wanted dinner to be nice. It would be their first meal alone together — if you didn't count the infamous toast several days ago, which he didn't — and perhaps something of a date — their first date, actually. She deserved for it to be special, but he wasn't sure how to say any of that aloud without sounding like a fool. Instead he replied, "I don't like to eat in the laboratory when I can help it and I thought that you might prefer this to eating in the kitchens."

Hermione beamed at him from across the table, brown eyes twinkling. His discounted version of the situation wasn't even remotely believable. He had put effort into this. For her. Her heart swelled.

"I didn't know what you might want to eat," he continued, glancing away from her distracting gaze. "Nor did I want to take a chance and guess. Food allergies and aversions being what they are."

She chuckled softly, drawing his eyes back to her. He was being ridiculously polite; it was endearing and sort of adorable. "Anything is fine, Severus. I'm not allergic to anything and I am not a picky eater. I'm just glad to be here." She reached across the table and set her hand over his where it lay on the polished wood. "With you."

His lips curled into a small, disused smile and he turned his hand over to lightly grasp hers. He raised his free hand into the air and snapped his fingers. In a moment, a tiny pop disrupted the silence as a house-elf appeared. The witch slid her arm back into her lap surreptitiously and turned to smile at the creature. She didn't recognize this elf but that wasn't unusual. There were hundreds of them working at the castle.

"What was served for dinner this evening?" Severus asked the elf.

"Pasta, sir," it squeaked. "Meatballs, chicken parmesan, primavera, carbonara, tomato sauce, alfredo sauce, lasagna, baked ziti, ravioli, puttanesca…"

Snape held up his hand to stop the servant. They all knew that the list could go on for quite some time. The buffet meals at Hogwarts were extensive and diverse. He looked to his dining companion questioningly, wishing that he knew her tastes better.

"Chicken parmesan sounds good."

His dark eyes glinted in agreement and he turned back to the awaiting house-elf. "Can you please bring us two plates of chicken parmesan, a green salad, bread, and a pitcher of water? We were not able to eat dinner earlier." He spoke more pleasantly towards the creature than he might have normally due to the witch's particular and peculiar opinions about them.

The elf nodded, squeaked its assent, and popped back out of the room. Hermione gestured towards the spot it had just vacated. "Is that a teacher perk?"

"I suppose you could call it that."

She placed the linen napkin in her lap and looked up at the quiet wizard across from her. She felt nervous again. She wanted to kiss him to erase the weird awkwardness that permeated the space between them. Before she had a chance to do anything about it though, the house-elf Apparated back into the Potions Master's study, levitating several dishes above its bald little head. Once all the plates were arranged on the table, the elf left a second and final time.

Dinner looked delicious and the tablemates wasted no time in tucking in. The food was fresh and hot even though it had to have been made hours ago. After enjoying the majority of their meals in companionable silence, Severus was the first to speak. "I was surprised by the lack of Gryffindor testosterone trying to break down my door last night. I assume that the confrontations went better than you expected?"

"Not necessarily better," Hermione replied after dabbing her mouth with her napkin. "They didn't like any of it, of course, but they begrudgingly accepted that it's my choice."

The wizard's dark brow arched sharply. "Weasley and Potter accepted that you and I are… _involved?_ Just like that?" He must have seriously underestimated the witch's coercion tactics.

"Oh," Hermione started. She hadn't told him yet that she had decided to keep the more intimate details to herself for now. "No. I only told them about the Malfoys, the potion, and the apprenticeship. I figured that that was enough for them to digest for the time being."

The former Death Eater's lips twitched as he sighed inwardly in relief. He hadn't been looking forward to the two brats that had been the bane of his existence being aware of his relationship with their far-brighter friend. It would only cause problems for him, especially since he still had to teach Potter, who had somehow managed to get an O on his Potions O.W.L.s despite Snape's best efforts to fail him. In the deepest, darkest, most cobweb-infested corner of his subconscious, he had had to concede that the infuriating boy must have inherited some of his mother's natural talent in the subject. He also didn't doubt that the little witch across from him had coached the thickheaded boy ad nauseam prior to the exam, knowing his desire to become an Auror. It _was_ what she did for her friends.

"I'll tell them eventually, I'm sure," Hermione continued, unknowingly interrupting the wizard's mental tangent. She wasn't sure yet when but if she and Severus continued to see each other, it would prove necessary eventually. "But Ginny knows. She riddled it out for herself and I couldn't bring myself to lie to her face about it. She won't say anything to anyone."

With his mouth preoccupied with chicken parmesan, he simply nodded. Ginerva Weasley was the more clever and cunning member of the witch's little coven of Gryffindors. In fact, he had noticed over the years that the little redheaded Chaser possessed a fair few traits that were better suited for his own House. He didn't know if that was a comfort now or not.

"Actually she thought I had been shagging Draco," Hermione added, more to see the wizard's reaction than anything. "I felt the need to correct her."

Severus swallowed and chuckled dryly. "If you remember, I had assumed as much as well. It's a far more plausible theory than the truth."

Hermione scowled lightly. "Depends on who you ask. I personally think that it's a ridiculous conclusion."

"You, my pet, are singularly unique in that and _every_ regard," he replied in a silky tone before he really knew what he was saying. He quickly took an overly long drink from his water glass, focusing on the bookshelves just behind her.

The Gryffindor blushed at the compliment and the endearment. It was the second time that he had referred to her as 'my pet' and it did things to her that she'd never be able to properly explain, even to herself. She didn't know how to respond appropriately so she carried on as if it hadn't happened. "Remus knows as well. Professor Lupin," she redacted, remembering the wizard's reaction at lunch the other day. "I had to tell him; he had already suspected as much."

This drew the wizard's dark, calculating gaze back to her. "Suspected?" he drawled in question.

"Apparently you had been staring at me more often than he thought was normal." She boldly met his eyes and saw his sallow cheeks flush. So it was true. He had been interested in making her more than just an apprentice before this weekend's confrontation. She grinned.

Severus cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'm unconcerned with Lupin's suspicions, founded or not. He knows how to be discreet when it's warranted and he happens to owe me a rather large debt."

Curiosity replaced the slow smolder in her chocolate orbs. "For what?' She knew that the two wizards weren't friends. They worked together well enough, both at the school and with the Order, but there was no camaraderie between them. There had been a lot of animosity during their student days at Hogwarts, based on the stories Sirius had told her and the boys before the Animagus had died. She hoped that he wasn't referring to anything so petty.

The Potions Master stood from the table and straightened his robes. They had finished eating and still had hours' worth of work ahead of them — on a school night no less. He waited for the girl to stand as well. "What do you know about the lycanthropy cure?"

"Not as much as I'd like to," she admitted, following him to the door that led back to the laboratory. "It was created during the height of the war. I didn't have an opportunity to research it when it was released and by the time I did, Remus was already cured so I didn't bother."

Severus guided her back into the antechamber between his chambers. "It's produced by a very small brewery that retains all rights to the recipe. Instead of registering it to be reproduced by Healers as we did the Cruciatus potion, they registered it privately."

"Why would they do that?" she asked, looking up at him. "Surely they can't keep up with the demand."

"Money," was his simple answer. He looked at her pointedly. "Instead of making the elixir public and being content with the substantial royalties it would've accrued, they brew it exclusively and sell it for an astronomical price."

"That's horrible!" she exclaimed indignantly. "The vast majority of werewolves have little to no money as it is because of society's prejudices!"

Severus watched the fire spike in her eyes and could practically hear the wheels in her head spinning at a fervent pace, no doubt working out a plan to right another injustice in the world. He smirked. She was such a little hellcat. "Precisely. So I obtained the recipe and brewed it myself for Lupin."

It took a moment for his words to sink through the righteous anger swirling around her. When it did her expression morphed into one of awed surprise. "You stole the brewing instructions because you knew that Remus would've never been able to afford it." It was a statement rather than a question.

" _Obtained_ , Hermione," he confirmed by way of a correction. "I said obtain, not steal."

She blinked owlishly once and then twice before throwing her hands around his neck, going up on her tiptoes, and kissing him with every ounce of pent-up passion she possessed. When they both ran out of oxygen, she lowered herself back down and smiled at him. "Mr. Darcy strikes again."

"Excuse me?" he replied with a cocked eyebrow, a look that was completely undermined by the slight swell of his normally thin lips.

"You are a brilliant, wonderful, amazing man, Severus Snape."

He snorted at her praise, though not as derisively as he would have liked. The blasted witch had wiggled her way so far under his masks that he couldn't have displaced her if he had wanted to. "I was simply rebelling against the inequity of the situation."

She shook her head and kissed him again — softly this time, letting her admiration for him flow through her lips. "No, you were saving a kind-hearted man from a terrible affliction and a lifetime of persecution and pain. A man who you happen to dislike." She stopped and considered it for a moment. "I wonder why Remus never mentioned this."

He reached out and distractedly curled one of the tendrils of her chestnut hair around his slim finger. "He couldn't have even if he had wanted to."

"Why not?"

"As you said, there was a war going on — one that I played a very delicate dual-sided role in. Had news gotten out that I had helped the Order's werewolf, there would have been severely unpleasant repercussions." He gave her another pointed look. "Steps were taken to prevent such an outcome."

Her brow wrinkled in concentration for a moment before the realization dawned on her. "A Wizard's Oath?" she breathed. He nodded and she kissed him again simply because she could. There was a spark in her eyes when she opened them again. "Do you still have the recipe?"

Severus chuckled again in barely-suppressed delight. He knew her question wasn't nearly as innocent as she had tried to make it sound. Her enthusiasm to right all the wrongs of the world was contagious and would likely be the death of him. "One thing at time, Miss Granger. We still have much work to be done."

With that they reluctantly returned to the laboratory, neither relishing the end of the lovely interlude they had just shared. It took three more hours of intense concentration, skill, and a smidge of luck to bring the potion to the incubation stage. Just like before they had stopped for supper, the Potions Master and his apprentice worked together seamlessly and didn't converse unless it was about technique or the next ingredient.

Snape was extremely pleased with the studious witch's performance by the time they warded the cauldrons to safely simmer for the week. She had surpassed what someone in her stage of training would typically be expected to handle. It reconfirmed his initial theory that this apprenticeship was the right path for her — for the both of them, really.

He turned to study the petite girl. Her back was to him and her honeyed curls bounced slightly as she stood on her toes to put jars away on the shelves above her head. Watching her, he idly thought about bringing a step stool down here for her use. The realization that he was planning to change his sanctuary, even subtly, for the witch's benefit was surprising, even to him. He cleared his throat. "I appreciate your assistance this evening, Hermione. Your brewing ability is impressive."

She turned her head and smiled that dangerous, crooked little smile of hers that made his brain go fuzzy. "Better," she said.

"Pardon?"

Hermione's smile twisted into an amused smirk. "Your compliments are getting better. Not perfect yet," she replied in clarification and then turned back to the ingredients she was re-shelving. "But I've got time."

Severus turned back to his own task, not having a clue how to respond to her last comment. She was constantly leaving him speechless with her admiration and insight and hints at deeper feelings. It was like a type of disarming magic that only she knew how to wield. To a former master spy, it was maddening.

Once the laboratory was tidy, they made their way back to the professor's office. Despite the enjoyment of the evening, now that the potion was complete, the lack of sleep from the night before was trying its very best to catch up to Hermione. She hadn't gotten a full night's rest in days. With a yawn, she turned to bid goodnight to the wizard standing behind her.

"I was planning to walk you back to Gryffindor tower, if that's okay. It's past curfew."

His words caught her off guard. "Of course it's okay, but it isn't necessary. I'm Head Girl. I'm allowed to be out after curfew. And I was working with a professor on an extracurricular project. Even Filch can't argue with that."

He scowled and reached out to gently pull her closer to him. He was trying to be chivalrous and wanted to spend just a little bit more time with the witch. When she was a hairbreadth away from his chest, he peered down into her surprised eyes. "I am quite aware that it's not a necessity," he said in a velveteen purr, " _but it's dark_."

She giggled at the reminder of her ridiculous antics. Giving him that excuse had to have been one of the dumbest things she had ever said, but despite its stupidity, it had been effective. He was apparently sending a similar message. He dipped his head down and captured her lips, smothering out the rest of her laughter. After a few minutes of kissing — in the Head of Slytherin's office no less — the pair of them slipped quietly out into the dungeon corridor.

They walked in silence through the deserted school, side by side. They didn't even so much as brush against each other, but the journey felt oddly intimate. Even her exhaustion couldn't keep the butterflies from spinning around in Hermione's stomach with each step. A private dinner and some more-or-less innocent kissing while hidden within warded chambers deep in the belly of the castle was different than strolling through the castle's public hallways together. People might see them. Questions might be raised. Like their newly-formed relationship, it was thrilling and a little bit scary and Hermione loved every devious second of it.

Despite the odds, they didn't encounter another soul, living or dead, in their progression to the seventh floor, save for Mrs. Norris. They spotted the cat turning a corner not far from their destination, but the feline didn't seem to notice or care about the pair as she slinked away. Maybe there were perks to being chaperoned by a professor.

When they reached the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, Severus bade the little witch a chaste good evening under the watchful gaze of the Fat Lady. He stood sentinel as she winked covertly and disappeared into the portrait hole. With a smile gracing his thin lips, he stalked off in the direction of dungeons. It had been a very good night.


	24. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR**

Breakfast the next morning was physically painful. Hermione could not remember _ever_ being so exhausted. After being up half the night with Snape, she had fallen asleep almost the second her head had hit the pillow. She hadn't even had the energy to change out of her clothes. When her alarm had gone off, she had barely been able to drag herself out of bed, through the shower, and down to the Great Hall, all the while lamenting the fact that she was no longer in possession of a Time Turner. She took her seat at the Gryffindor table and grunted in return to the boys' greetings. It was a testament to how ridiculously tired the Head Girl was that she was seriously considering skipping her morning classes in order to take a nap.

When Ginny arrived a few minutes later, Harry and Ron were preoccupied with food and an argument over the Chudley Cannons. The redhead sat and turned to her female best friend, a sympathetic smile on her face. The older witch had her head propped on her hand and her eyes closed. She looked positively knackered. Ginny poured a cup of coffee and slid it over. "You alright, Hermione? How'd things go last night?"

With some effort, Hermione managed to open her eyes and focus on the Chaser. She yawned. "Went really well." She glanced sleepily at the boys, who had scooted further down the table to carry on their debate with Dean and Seamus. They weren't paying the slightest bit of attention to her and Ginny. She took a grateful sip of the coffee and proceeded to give the younger girl a quick rundown of the more scintillating events of the previous evening in hushed tones. Tired or not, she still felt the desire to gush about this new and exciting facet of her life.

As the owls swooped into the hall with the morning post, she chanced a glance towards the staff table. Severus was solemnly eating his breakfast and didn't appear to be the slightest bit drowsy. It didn't seem fair. She could hardly keep her eyes open and here he was seemingly well-rested and alert. She scowled and looked away.

"Draco and I took a walk after classes," Ginny whispered with a salacious waggle of her brow.

Hermione took another sip of her coffee and nodded. "I saw you, actually, on my way to the dungeons. How did that come about?"

"Luna and I were leaving Transfiguration and he just sidled up beside us and asked if I fancied a walk," the Chaser replied happily over her bowl of oatmeal.

Hermione smiled. She knew that the pure-blood could be a charmer if nothing else. "And what did you two talk about?"

"Quidditch, at first. Then he told me about you repeatedly throwing him to the ground during Defense."

The older witch smirked. "He did it to himself."

Ginny grinned. "I figured. He's funny, isn't he?"

"In a sarcastic, arrogant sort of way," Hermione quipped and took another gulp from her mug. She glanced across the dining room in the direction of the Slytherin table. Draco was in his customary seat amongst his peers, a newspaper up in front of his face.

The redhead's smile brightened further and she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively again. "I like his arrogance. It's one of his best qualities."

The Head Girl was on the verge of a reply when she noticed a small commotion breaking out at the Ravenclaw table. A cluster of witches were chattering animatedly over a copy of the morning edition of the _Daily Prophet_. As she watched, each of them looked up in turn, directly at her, an odd expression on their faces. Not being able to decipher what the issue was, Hermione frowned and looked past them to the Hufflepuff table. Here too several pairs of eyes were darting from newsprint to her and from her to the dais of professors. Confused, her sleepy eyes darted to Draco who was now staring straight at her. He pointed to the newspaper in his hand with a meaningful look.

Frown deepening, Hermione scanned the Gryffindor table and spotted a rolled-up copy of the _Daily Prophet_ next to Dean's breakfast plate. "Hey, Dean," she called. The tall wizard turned to look at her questioningly. "Mind if I borrow your paper?"

Dean looked down at the newspaper, shrugged, and tossed it to her. Quickly unrolling it, she scanned the front page.

"What's the matter? What's going on?" Ginny asked, finally noticing the looks that were being thrown in their direction.

"I don't know yet," Hermione said distractedly.

The front page seemed harmless enough. There was a large article about the policy being passed by the Ministry that Severus and Lucius had been discussing the other day at the Leaky Cauldron, but it appeared to be a rather useless piece of legislature, not something that would be causing the slowly escalating chorus of whispers around them. She turned the page, scanned the black type face, and then turned the page again when nothing jumped out at her. Her brow furrowed. Surely anything of any consequence would be published within the first few pages. The back of the paper was traditionally reserved for the more frivolous tripe, like Rita Skeeter's horrid column.

Hermione, therefore, gasped in surprise when she turned to the fourth page and was met with a familiar face. The large moving photograph in the center of the newsprint featured the striking witch that she had met in the bowels of the Ministry on Monday. The woman was smiling brightly and waving from her upright position in what appeared to be a St. Mungo's hospital bed. After a moment a stern looking witch came into the frame, scowled at the photographer, and pulled a privacy curtain around the bed, blocking the patient from view. Once the Healer had walked away, a hand in the foreground came into focus and pulled the curtain back to expose the grinning witch once again.

"Who's that?" Ginny asked, glancing at the moving picture over the Head Girl's shoulder.

Hermione looked up to see not only the redhead but Harry and Ron staring curiously at her. She smiled at the three of them. "It's the witch from the Ministry, the one that Professor Snape cured." She dropped her focus back down to the article accompanying the photo.

 _Miracle Cure Found!_

" _For the first time in a decade, I'm enjoying being alive" an enthusiastic female patient of St. Mungo's long-term care ward exclaimed from her former sick bed on Tuesday morning._

 _Due to patient confidentiality the witch's name has not been released, but what has been revealed is that the witch has been miraculously cured of an ailment which had afflicted her body for over ten years. The spokeswizard for St. Mungo's has been tight-lipped about the specifics, but the Daily Prophet was told during a press conference held Tuesday evening that before the woman was cured, she was being treated for a wide range of symptoms that resulted from prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. Up until Monday afternoon, the vivacious redhead had been an invalid, incapable of even the most basic motor functions due to the constant pain that had riddled her nervous system._

 _The Head Healer for the long-term care ward was quoted as saying, "A recently invented potion is to be_ _fully credited with our patient's complete recovery. We are asking that anyone who is currently experiencing lasting effects of the Cruciatus Curse contact St. Mungo's to set up an appointment for evaluation. We don't, as of yet, know the full scope of this potion's curative abilities, but as one of the most impressive medical discoveries of the century, we are anticipating promising results."_

 _Upon further digging, the Daily Prophet was able to discover that the potion, aptly entitled Cruciatus Vomica Domintor, was registered with the British Ministry of Magic on Monday. The official documentation lists Severus Snape, renowned Potions Master and Hogwarts professor, and Hermione Granger, Hogwarts Head Girl and noted war hero, as the potion's creators. Hermione Granger was also registered as an apprentice under Master Snape's tutelage only hours before the potion's registration._

 _A representative from the Ministry's registrar's office confirmed that the Cruciatus Vomica Domintor potion was granted a public patent after a conclusive demonstration presented to the Potions Patent committee in which the unnamed St. Mungo's patient was administered the curative elixir. Also in attendance were Lucius Malfoy, rumored supporter of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his son Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts Head Boy, who both gave testimony as to the potion's effects. It is yet unknown what involvement the Malfoy Family had with creation of said potion. None of the patent committee members or presentation participants were available for comment at the time of publication._

 _With all the details remaining thus far shrouded in mystery, we at the Daily Prophet can only hope that this discovery will prove to be the miracle that it is being heralded._

When Hermione reached the end of the article, she waited until Ginny finished reading and then passed the paper to Harry and Ron before she glanced around the Great Hall again. She received several more stares from her classmates. Judging by the expressions of downright shock and bafflement, it was apparent that everyone that had read the column had zeroed in on the mention of her apprenticeship and had ignored the more important news. It was as if a third of the dining room was now expecting a group of Healers to charge into the castle and start chasing her with butterfly nets.

With reddening cheeks, Hermione looked towards the staff table where she was met with a warmer, if no less surprised reception. Professor McGonagall beamed at her over her copy of the morning paper and the Headmaster's eyes were twinkling wildly as he bowed his silvery head in a congratulatory nod. She saw Remus reach over and pat the Potions Master on the back before flashing her a proud grin. Severus' face was obscured by creased newsprint but she suspected that he was likely sporting a very smug expression.

"Well that was interesting," Harry commented once he had finished the article. He scowled over his shoulder at the furious whispering breaking out everywhere. "I don't see what the bloody big deal is though."

"It outed her as Snape's apprentice," Ginny replied, having already surmised that that was the cause of the commotion. "No one knew about that but us, remember?"

"Yeah, never mind the fact that Professor Snape created something that's curing people of terrible afflictions," Hermione said sarcastically. Out the corner of her eye, she saw the snarky man in question get up from his seat and quickly exit through the staff door. Fleeing the chaos, no doubt. She was seriously considering doing the same.

"Look at the bright side, Hermione, now everyone will know how mad you are. You don't have to hide it anymore," Ron said with a wink.

She rolled her eyes and poured herself another cup of liquid caffeine. Thanks to the article, it was going to be a very long day and she was going to need all the help she could get. Closing her eyes, she attempted to ignore the chatter aimed at her as she drank her coffee.

Ten minutes before the end of breakfast, the Gryffindor Head Girl decided to slip out of the Great Hall early. If she could get to her first class before the rest of the students left the dining room then she would be able to avoid the majority of the stares and gossip. After telling the boys that she would meet them in Transfiguration, she bid them goodbye and snuck out of the large double doors. She was crossing the entrance hall and heading to the marble staircase when a familiar voice called her by her last name. She turned to see Snape standing at the opening to the main dungeon corridor and hurried over to him.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked in a rushed whisper, glancing over her shoulder to make sure that no one else had left the hall yet.

"Waiting for you," he replied coolly. He held out his hand, revealing a very small potion vial full to the stopper with a pale, iridescent purple liquid.

"What's that?" the witch asked, looking up at him questioningly.

"Drink it," he said in response and thrust it into her hand.

"What is it?" she asked again, holding the vial up to the light and trying to determine its contents.

Severus crossed his arms over his chest and scowled down at the inquisitive girl. He hadn't meant for his offering to be a test of sorts but her persistent questioning had turned it into one. Now he had to play along. Would she consume a magical liquid without knowing its use? Any Potions Mistress worth her salt would not, but there was the complicating matter of it being given to her by him. How much stock did she put in her faith in him? "Don't trust me?" he purred wickedly, dark eyes glinting.

Hermione made a face. She unconditionally trusted the bristly wizard with her life. She opened the tiny bottle, downed the contents in one swallow, and then looked at him expectantly. "There. Now what was it?"

He smirked, not knowing if her rash action should be construed as a success or failure because he wasn't quite sure which question he had been wanting the answer to. "You are the Potions apprentice, Miss Granger. You tell me."

The Head Girl scowled. Fancy him or not, he could still be a right pain. With a long-suffering sigh, she closed her eyes and took inventory of herself. There hadn't been enough of the potion to distinguish ingredients on her palette outside of a faint lingering essence of mint on her tongue. But the rest of her felt glorious. Her muscles were no longer tight and achy and her mind felt clear. It was as if she had just woken from a long and extremely satisfying nap. Her eyes opened again to see the Potions Master's smug visage. "Invigoration Draught." It wasn't a question.

Severus nodded, pleased with her astute assessment. "Diluted with chamomile and peppermint to make you alert but not wired. With your size, a normal dose would likely have you bouncing off the stone walls." He took the empty vial from her and tucked it into an unseen pocket of his robes. "I should have given it to you last night to take first thing this morning but I didn't realize that you would be so exhausted. You haven't been getting enough rest."

Hermione didn't know what to say. It had been such an incredibly thoughtful gesture. He had noticed her misery and had sought to remedy it the best way that he knew how. It was like sending her a bouquet of flowers except that the flowers had literally made her feel better instead of only figuratively. She wished that they were somewhere more private so that she could show him the full measure of her gratitude. Instead she smiled crookedly and said, "Thank you, Professor. That was very considerate of you."

His lips twitched in a manner that was becoming a frequent habit when around the girl, belying his amusement. "I don't wish for you to pass out in your cauldron this afternoon. I have quite enough work to do without having to cleaning up _that_ mess. Plus, I can't have you behaving like that scatter-brained Lovegood witch you associate with. The blame might come back to me for having you up so late."

She glanced over shoulder again, confirmed that the doors to the Great Hall were closed tight and that they were still alone, and then smacked the wizard lightly on the chest. His pectoral muscles were hard against her palm but she refused to dwell on that distracting thought at the moment. "Don't make fun of Luna. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if she actually manages to discover a whole new breed of magical creature one day and you'll feel rather foolish if its wings or intestines or whatever turn out to be priceless on the Potions' circuit."

Severus lightly chuckled at the notion. "Should that _highly_ unlikely occurrence come to pass," he said in a tone that suggested his certainty that it wouldn't, "you have my word that I'll personally beg for her forgiveness and award Ravenclaw a hundred house points."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Changing the subject while she had the chance, she thrust her chin in the direction of the noise seeping out of the Great Hall. "Did you know that that was coming? The article, I mean?"

"I wasn't surprised by it. I told you that there would be articles. It was just a matter of time."

"I just wasn't prepared for it to happen quite so quickly," she replied, her brow furrowing. "Caused quite the uproar."

Snape's thin lips tensed into a frown. He had noticed some of the stares aimed at the witch before he had ducked out of the hall. Unfortunately she would have to bear the brunt of the negative backlash because of the mention of her apprenticeship with him and there wasn't much he could do about it. "Brace yourself. There will be more, especially once St. Mungo's starts administering the batch that we have brewing."

The Muggle-born nodded, having figured as much. This first one just caught her by surprise. But the school had been bound to find out about her new position sooner or later, at least they could get the reaction over with now. The uproar would hopefully die back down before the wizarding hospital was able to begin curing patients and more reports came out. She was just glad that Rita Skeeter hadn't written today's article. If she had, the vile witch would've intimated all sorts of horrible things about her.

Hermione jumped slightly when the tall wizard reached a few long fingers out to caress one of the curls hanging by her cheek, pulling her from her thoughts. She peered up at his expression as he studied the frizzy lock, twisting it between finger and thumb. This wasn't the first time he had done this. In fact, he seemed to be somewhat mesmerized by her hair which was really rather odd since it was such a frightening mess most of the time. Perhaps it appealed to him like certain slimy potion ingredients, fascinating from a scientific point of view. She snorted aloud at that idea and the man immediately dropped his hand back to his side.

"I must go," he snapped, not so much out of anger as discomfort at being caught acting so besotted. "And so should you, before breakfast lets out."

The little witch nodded again and turned to leave. She glanced over her shoulder and threw him her most dazzling smile. "See you in class, Professor."

His dark eyes glinted before he turned and disappeared into the shadows of the dungeon corridor in a flourish of robes.

* * *

Classes that morning were a mixed bag. Transfiguration started off badly. Hermione had gotten to the classroom before anyone else but when the other seventh-years arrived, most of them clamored around her, all wanting to know what she had done to be named Snape's apprentice. The Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors assumed that she had done something horribly wrong to be punished in such a way, while the Ravenclaws and Slytherins hypothesized on why she had been granted such an honor. Draco's snickers through the whole debacle didn't help matters either. The lesson improved sharply, however, when Professor McGonagall arrived and promptly awarded Gryffindor fifty points for Hermione's efforts with the Cruciatus potion. That announcement effectively shut everyone up.

In the corridors on the way to Charms, however, it became clear that the gossip had been spreading like Fiendfyre. It frustrated the studious Head Girl that the only time the youth of Hogwarts seemed to read the newspaper was when something salacious was published. There was never this much talk about regular news, but as soon as the _Daily Prophet_ printed articles defaming Harry or making her out to be harlot, suddenly everyone in the castle had a damn subscription. It was maddening.

Thankfully, their lesson with Professor Flitwick was too engaging for much attention to be paid to the new Potions apprentice. It was a review day, which meant that the class was to practice and perfect the charms that they had learned over the last few weeks. It also meant, as they were all well aware of by now, that a pop quiz would be forthcoming. Flitwick always set practicals for the lesson directly before a test or quiz. It took the surprise out of it but did ensure that the majority of the class received good marks. As a result, none of the N.E.W.T. level students slacked off on review days. Hermione was more grateful than ever for the stimulant Severus had given her as she helped Harry with the charm that he still hadn't got quite right.

When Charms was over and the class began to file out of the room, Draco pressed a folded up scrap of parchment into Hermione's hand as he passed by. The Gryffindor witch surreptitiously tucked the note into her pocket before following Harry and Ron out of the classroom and back down to the Great Hall for lunch. If Malfoy was being secretive about something, she definitely didn't want her other friends to oversee whatever it was.

Once they were in their usual places in the dining room, Hermione pulled the crinkled parchment from her pocket and read it quickly under the table. The blond pure-blood had simply scribbled, " _Meet me by the lake after lunch,"_ in emerald green ink. She looked over at the boy and nodded when he met her gaze. They both had a free period after lunch before Potions began. She had planned on getting some of her homework knocked out, still being behind, but that would have to wait. She briefly wondered why he hadn't just asked her to meet him instead writing her a note, or come by their table after they had all finishing eating like he had the day before, but she shook away the question. She'd find out soon enough.

Having not eaten anything that day, being both too exhausted and preoccupied with the newspaper article at breakfast, she was now starving. She wondered if an increased appetite was a side effect of the Invigoration Draught that Snape had given her as she ravenously loaded her plate with fruit and sandwiches and began to eat. She could feel various pairs of eyes staring at her from around the room but tried her best to ignore them. Not two bites into her berries, however, Neville squeezed in beside her on the end of the bench, which was not his typical seat. She scooted over a tad, forcing Ginny to also move down, and looked at the boy expectantly. "What's up, Neville?"

His face flushed slightly but he gave her a weak smile as he slid a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ onto the table between them. It was folded to the picture of the witch from St. Mungo's. "I wanted to talk to you about this," he said, pointing to the article.

"Yes, it seems to be all that anyone can talk about today," she replied with a sigh before popping another ripe strawberry in her mouth. She knew that Neville of all people must think that she was nuts for signing up for additional tutelage with Snape. The timid wizard hadn't taken a Potions class since fifth year but was still deathly afraid of the professor.

Neville swallowed. "I wanted to ask you about the potion. I was wondering if it could…" His words trailed off as he swallowed again, painfully this time.

Hermione stared at the discomforted boy for a moment before realizing what he was trying to ask. Her heart felt like it had suddenly plummeted to her feet. "Oh, Neville," she said quietly and reached over to put her hand on his shoulder. She could feel him slightly trembling under her touch. "I talked to Professor Snape about your parents when he first explained the potion to me. But…" It was her turn to swallow uncomfortably. "He said that it won't work on their type of illness because their minds were affected by the curse, instead of their nervous systems."

"Oh," he replied quietly, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"I'm so sorry, Neville," she whispered, feeling tears start to gather at the corners of her eyes. She gave his arm a little squeeze. "I know it doesn't really help but Professor Snape said that your parents' illness was a true testament to their bravery and loyalty to the Order of the Phoenix."

He nodded and met her gaze. His eyes were wet but held a fierce inner strength that was surprising to witness. "Thanks, Hermione. What you created is really amazing. When I read about it this morning, I had hoped that it would work for them, but it's enough that they aren't in pain like she was." He pointed to the witch smiling out of the newsprint.

Hermione nodded in agreement, feeling a whole new dimension of respect and fondness for the boy. There was a reason that he had been sorted into Gryffindor, even if he hadn't seen it for himself at the time. She glanced up at the Potions Master and caught him watching the little scene at her table unfold, his expression guarded but definitely curious. She shook her head minutely to let him know that there wasn't a problem, or at least not an easily remedied one, and made a mental note to talk to him after class that afternoon. It seemed to her that there had to be a way of augmenting the Cruciatus potion to correct damage to the brain. The nervous system and the brain were interconnected, after all. If the potion could heal and reverse all of the damage that Lucius and the St. Mungo's patient had suffered with, surely with some research and a bit of tweaking, it would be able to reverse the effects that the Longbottoms were plagued with as well. She was determined to find a way.

"I guess congratulations are in order," Neville said, interrupting her mental tirade. "On your apprenticeship, I mean. It's really… er… um…" He shook his head and looked down at the table.

"What is it?"

The wizard looked up at her sheepishly, a dusky pink coloring the apples of his cheeks. "Sorry. I wanted to say something nice but… What can I possibly say? It's Snape!"

The entire end of the Gryffindor table erupted into laughter. Obviously Harry, Ron, and Ginny had been listening to their discussion. Hermione's ears warmed but she laughed right along with them. It _was_ a ridiculous notion, committing to two additional years with the dark and snarky man; she could appreciate that.

"If Professor Spout lets me train with her after graduation, though, at least we'll be here together," Neville said hopefully. "That'll be cool. Didn't really fancy hanging out with teachers and ghosts all summer."

Hermione hadn't considered that possibility. She had known, of course, that Neville had been angling for an apprenticeship with the Hufflepuff Head of House, but it had slipped her mind with all the excitement over her own position. Unlike the clumsy wizard, she was looking very forward to extra one-on-one time with a certain teacher in particular, but having someone else her own age, that she had grown up with, would probably have its benefits too. And Neville would not constantly clamor for her attention the way that her best friends tended to do, especially if he had his own internship to focus on. She smiled at the idea of her and her fellow Gryffindor having the run of the castle during the summer months.

"I forgot about that," Harry said between bites of his lunch, his green eyes sparkling with what looked like relief. "Neville will probably be here. So you won't be stuck all alone with Snape, Hermione. That makes me feel _loads_ better."

The curly-haired witch made a face. She hated when he implied that she was incapable of taking care of herself. He made it hard to fuss at him about it, though, because she knew it was done out of love.

"Yeah, Neville will take care of her for us," Ron agreed, tipping his goblet in Neville's direction.

The wizard gulped and suddenly looked like the little boy he had been in third year, when his Boggart had taken the form of the dungeon's infamous inhabitant. "Against Snape? Not bloody likely."

The laughter amongst the group escalated again, drawing another round of attention from the around room, though thankfully for a better reason. Hermione glanced back at the staff table and noticed that Severus was now looking resolutely elsewhere. Lunch passed by rather peacefully after that.

After leaving the Great Hall, Hermione made excuses to Harry and Ron and ducked out of the castle's massive front doors. The sun was back today but the air still held a late autumn chill. It wouldn't be long before she would have to dig out her winter cloak and mittens. Pulling her school robes a little tighter around her, she took off across the lawn and down to the sandy beach that bordered the lake.

While she waited for Malfoy, she picked up a few flat stones to skip across the placid water. Ron had tried about a hundred times to teach her how to do it properly, but she still didn't quite have the hang of it. No matter how many times she attempted it, she couldn't get the rock to jump more than once before sinking. She flung another one and sighed as it immediately slipped beneath the surface with a dissatisfying plunk.

"You know that's far easier with magic, right, Granger?" Draco asked snidely as he came up behind her. "Unless your goal is to sink them as quickly as possible, if it is then you're doing a fantastic job."

Hermione scowled at him over her shoulder but the expression was tainted with too much amusement to be effective. His taunt was true. She was rubbish at skipping stones. She turned around to face the blond fully. "So what's with all the secrecy?" she asked.

He shrugged and they fell in step together, starting off on a leisurely stroll along the dry section of beach. "Didn't you nag me just yesterday for not being discreet enough?"

"Well yes, but that was about Ginny." She looked over at him curiously, a slight breeze whipping her curls across her face. "Is _this_ about her?"

"No. Not entirely, anyway. Just had enough attention for today, I suppose."

The Muggle-born nodded in understanding. She hadn't been the only one to receive unwanted notoriety from the _Daily Prophet_ article. Nothing much had been said about him particularly but he had been mentioned as being present for the presentation, which had surely raised its own questions. "At least everyone isn't treating you like you're crazy. I swear it's like Severus is the next Voldemort and I've just been made the first Death Eater."

The blond snorted. "Probably not far from what most of them think actually, knowing my godfather's popularity. But at least that ruddy column didn't come right out and call you a _supporter of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._ "

Hermione wasn't entirely sure how to respond. The paper had basically called him a Death Eater, or at least called his father one, and she could tell that he was bitter about it. But the accusation was true; Lucius had been in league with Voldemort for years. There was no getting around that fact. And it wasn't like it was the first time that that information had been made public knowledge. Nearly everyone had learned about the Malfoy family's affiliations after the breakout of Azkaban. She frowned. "Not to discount your feelings or anything, Draco, but aren't you used to that by now?"

"That's the problem," the pure-blood replied with a frown, his tone cold. "I'm so damn tired of it. I know my father made horrible decisions and did terrible things, but he also suffered greatly for them. And I didn't bloody well do anything wrong yet here I am being branded for his mistakes." He picked up a stone from the shore bank and lobbed it angrily at the still water. It skipped five times before sinking.

The witch's frown deepened, both at his words and his effortless perfection at what she had failed to do only moments before. "I agree. The Malfoy family has more than paid its debt to society, as far as I'm concerned. But almost no one knows about any of that. Your father's illness, the truth behind your mother's death, even your Switzerland approach to the war, all of that's been kept a secret. So the only thing the majority of the wizarding world knows is that your father _was_ a Death Eater and they assume like father like son."

"Not much I can do about it without telling the whole sordid tale over and over again."

"Severus said that Lucius will probably do an interview," she suggested hopefully. "Maybe that'll set a few things straight at least. Until then, you gotta remember that there are people who know the truth and that don't think you're evil. Your godfather, the Slytherins…" She stopped walking and waited for him to do likewise. When he turned to face her, she reached out her hand and ever so lightly squeezed his upper arm in support, knowingly crossing into new territory for their friendship. "Me and Ginny too."

Draco tried to maintain his arrogant facade in light of the little witch's proffered comfort but failed. A touched smile broke through and he knew the truth was obvious in his eyes. Her words meant a lot. He had long ago come to terms with fact that he couldn't count on many people. Witches and wizards sorted into Salazar's house were typically self-serving first, which meant that one could not entirely rely on them because they would protect themselves before anyone else. It was a trait that he had grown up knowing, constantly surrounded by Slytherins as he was, and one that was ingrained in his own psyche. But it wasn't an altogether comforting notion. Everyone needed someone that they could confide in, could trust in, and could feel safe with. He was no different. It baffled him as much as it made perfect sense that he would find such allies in Gryffindor of all places.

Hermione smiled brightly, seeing that he had taken her words to heart. He would never be the emotional, touchy-feely type and she was fine with that, as long as he understood that she was his friend and therefore in his corner. She angled to change the subject as they set off along the lake again. The boathouse, where the little magical skiffs that they had all rode in on their first arrival to Hogwarts, was just coming into view. "Speaking of Ginny, how did your little walk in the gardens yesterday go?"

"Spying on me, Granger?" Malfoy asked, regaining his usual arrogant tone and running his hand through his slightly wind-swept hair. "Thinking that, perhaps, you've fallen for the wrong Slytherin after all?"

She snorted. "Hardly."

"We just took a stroll amongst the rose bushes," he replied, sidestepping her delusional preference for Snape because the man was his godfather and completely enamored with the girl. "Idle chit-chat about nothing of any real importance, but I liked listening to her talk — and watching her talk, come to think of it. She gets so fired up about things that she's interested in. It's kind of… _amusing_ to witness."

By 'amusing', Hermione was sure that he had meant something more intimate, something along the lines of _intoxicating_. The younger girl was beautiful, especially when she was excited, and she had seen firsthand the effect that that trait usually had on wizards. "Ginny's pretty amazing," she agreed and stopped walking again to turn towards the blond. "I will kill you, Draco, if you hurt her. If you aren't interested in her, then tell her that. Don't play around with her. She's been through more than her carefree demeanor suggests."

"Calm down, Granger," he drawled, wondering why the hell this witch constantly felt the need to threaten him. "I'm not planning on marry her or anything, but I'm interested enough to see where things go. I'm not going to purposely hurt anyone."

The Muggle-born smiled, satisfied with his answer. "Good."

The odd pair wound their way back to the boathouse and then climbed the steps up to the castle together, chatting amicably. Once inside the school, Hermione took the pure-blood through a few hidden shortcuts that she had learned over the years from Harry, Ron, and the Marauders' Map, and they soon found themselves in the main dungeon corridor. Class would be starting in a few minutes.

As they drew near the dank chamber where their Potions lessons were held, Hermione stopped to smooth down her robes. Draco turned in time to see her try and tame her curls with her fingers and smirked. He could see the nervous energy swirling in her brown eyes even in the dreary light of the dungeons. "It's a lost cause, Granger." She scowled and he laughed. "Good thing for you, he doesn't seem to mind."

With that they turned the corner and entered Snape's lair. Harry was already there, seated at their table in the back, as was most of the rest of their classmates. Heads turned when they walked in together and a few muttered whispers broke out, mostly from the group of Ravenclaws. Draco sneered at them as he went to take his seat with Blaise across the room. Hermione quickly sat down next to her best friend.

Harry scowled at her. "Really, Hermione? The whole school already thinks that you two are dating after that article confirmed that you were together at the Ministry. You're only exacerbating the problem by being seen _everywhere_ with him."

Before she had a chance to argue, yet again, that she and the Head Boy were only friends, Professor Snape stalked into the room and slammed the door behind him. Instant silence fell over the class and Hermione's stomach butterflies sprang back to life. The imposing wizard paced up to the front of the room, flicked his wand at the blackboard, and turned to the class.

"Your assignment today is a potion that you've all made before. I can practically guarantee that it will be featured on your N.E.W.T. exam so take care _not_ to screw it up this time." Severus looked darkly around the room, being sure not to let his eyes fall on the witch in the back row. "The instructions are on page 394 of your text. You have just enough to time to complete your samples before the end of class. Anyone not finished by the time the bell sounds will receive a zero for the day."

With his icily-delivered instructions complete, the first two rows of students jumped up and shuffled off to the supply closet at the front of the room. As the rest of the class waited their turn, Snape strode menacingly to the back table. He sneered down his nose at Harry. "Potter, try not to blow yourself up in the next hour and a half or whatever is left of you will cost Gryffindor the House Cup."

Hermione bit her tongue to keep from saying something that she would regret. She could not act like her relationship with the bullying man was anything more than teacher and professor. He wouldn't even look at her. When Harry returned the wizard's sneer and then opened his mouth to reply, she placed a calming hand on his shoulder. From the corner of her eye she saw Snape's wand hand twitch in the direction of her open textbook. A moment later the wizard was gone in a swish of black fabric.

As Harry quietly seethed to himself, the new apprentice looked down at her book. Her brow furrowed. He had completely altered the two exposed pages. The rest of the class was supposed to be brewing an advanced potion that they had first brewed last year, but her instructions were for a concoction that she had never heard of. Her eyes scanned down the recipe. It was complex and fairly volatile judging by the fact that several of the ingredients were poisonous or reactive and had to be held in suspended animation with restriction charms while being incorporated. It intrigued her. She looked up curiously but Severus' attention was pinned on anything but her.

When the second half of the room went to get their needed items from the storeroom, Hermione hung back. She needed to talk to the dark wizard prowling around the dungeon chamber and could think of only one possible way to do it. She bided her time until everyone else had taken their seats again, ran through the list of ingredients she needed to collect one more time, and made her way to the supply closet. After a few minutes alone amongst the shelves, she made her move.

"Professor Snape," she called, loud enough to be heard in the classroom proper. "I can't find the Re'em blood."

"Left-hand side, top shelf, half-way down," she heard him reply dispassionately.

She waited a minute more then called out again. "I'm not seeing it anywhere."

Unintelligible mutterings in his deep timber echoed through the room. Hermione grinned to herself as she heard the frustrated rustle of his robes, signaling his imminent arrival. When he entered the room, she held up the vial of murky red liquid with a cheeky smile. His eyes glinted dangerously and he threw a quick privacy spell around them.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked.

"Why am I brewing something different than everyone else?" she asked in reply. "And what is it? I don't recognize it."

Severus crossed his arms over his chest, slightly annoyed that she would take such a risk just to question his choices. "You could brew that potion with your wand arm tied behind your back. I see no need to waste either of our time testing what I already know you are capable of. What I assigned you should tax your abilities. It's a poison so take care not to splash."

Hermione nodded. He had actually answered her questions to her satisfaction. That didn't happen often. Gathering her ingredients to her chest, she boldly pecked him on the cheek, whispered, "Thank you", and left the storeroom.

For the remainder of the allotted time the class worked on their projects in complete silence. Hermione, who had feared distraction in such close proximity to the professor's ominous presence, was too wrapped up in the intricacies of her assignment to pay him any attention except for the few times he stopped in front of her and Harry's station to check their progress. Apparently both were progressing well because he didn't comment before stalking off to the next batch of cauldrons. She did notice that the intoxicating scent of him seemed to linger long after he was gone.

When the clock tower announced the end of the school day, the entire N.E.W.T. level class had managed to finish their assignments with varying degrees of success. Some of the attempts hadn't come out as well as others, but no one failed or melted a cauldron and that was always an achievement. Though it had certainly challenged her, Hermione completed her potion satisfactorily as well. The end product looked and smelled exactly as the directions said it should. She put all the unused ingredients away and waited until the rest of the class had filed out; having had to promise Harry that she'd meet him and Ron in the common room shortly in order to get him leave.

Once everyone was gone, she smiled across the room at Snape. "What do you want me to do with this?" she asked, gesturing towards the cauldron of poison.

He walked over, silently warded the door, and then inspected her work. "You did well. Vanish it. I have no need for a store of such things any longer."

Hermione did as he instructed, aware by his word usage that at one point he must have had a need for a supply of deadly toxins. Brewing the potion just to throw it out seemed like a waste of pricey ingredients, but it had made her heart thrum excitedly in her chest and she knew that that had been intentional on his part. "Thank you for that. It was fun."

"I haven't forgotten how dissatisfying the curriculum is for you."

He was standing so close to her that she could feel his breath ghost across the top of her head. She had to physically restrain herself from leaning into him, like he was a tall and looming magnet and she a piece of iron. As she took a small step backward, she briefly thought of taking him to task for the way he had berated Harry erroneously in order to cover up his wand work, but she thought better of it. He and Harry had enough animosity between them without her trying to play sides or be a moderator. He had altered the day's lesson for her benefit and that was a big enough win for the time being.

Noticing the slight distance that the witch had placed between them, Severus studied her face. Her eyes were shining and she appeared to be in far better condition than she had that morning. He felt a strong desire to sweep her into his arms but resisted. At the moment he needed to be her mentor, not her suitor. "Are you feeling well, Hermione, after the Invigoration Draught this morning?"

"Oh yes. Loads better," she said with a smile.

"I'm glad," he said softly, "but I am concerned that you have not been getting a proper amount of sleep. I know that it has been a taxing few days."

Hermione snorted. He was the cause of nearly all of her exhaustion, either directly or indirectly. She had stayed up with him in Malfoy Manor until late in the night then had spent an inordinate amount of time relaying the events of their time away from the school to her friends and last night she was up far too late brewing the Cruciatus potion. He may be concerned but he was also culpable.

Severus raised an eyebrow but continued forward with his train of thought. "I had planned on having you join me this evening after dinner to begin composing the brewing instructions for St. Mungo's, however I believe your time would be better spent going to bed early."

"I'm fine, Severus. I want to help you," she replied with a frown that bordered on a pout. "I transcribed all of the notes to begin with and I want to learn how to catalog them for the hospital."

He held up a long-fingered hand to stop her. "I didn't say that you couldn't help at all, just that it will not be this evening. It can wait until you have rested properly. I have witnessed you working yourself into a state of exhaustion before and I refuse to sit back and let it happen needlessly for the sake of this apprenticeship. I will also not allow you to rely on chemical stimulants unless absolutely unavoidable."

The Head Girl crossed her arms over her chest huffily, feeling chastised. Yes, she had worked herself into delirium on more than one occasion. Every year her obsessive studying for exams took a hard toll on her, and she couldn't properly think about the disaster of her third year without feeling exhausted. But still, she didn't appreciate being sent to bed like an errant child. She scowled at him.

The Potions Master chuckled at her expression, filling the room with the rich, seldom-heard sound of his laughter. He closed the gap between them and put his arms lightly around her slim shoulders. "Don't pout; it doesn't suit you. Get some decent rest tonight and we will tackle the project tomorrow."

Without knowing what else to say, she stood up on her tippy toes and pressed her lips to his. As soon as he responded to her attention, she murmured, "I wasn't pouting," against his mouth, eliciting another small chuckle.

After a few rather engaging kisses, Hermione suddenly remembered what she had wanted to discuss with the wizard before he had derailed her with talks of sleep deprivation. She stepped back slightly, leaving her hand splayed across his chest, and peered up at him. "Once we have everything completed for St. Mungo's, I want to look into altering the potion to work on the Longbottoms."

Severus stared down at the curly-haired witch. The now-familiar fire of determination was smoldering in her eyes, burning up the gold flecks amongst the pools of chocolate brown. His lips twitched. "I've already explained to you that it won't be effective on their particular condition."

"I know. But after seeing what it was able to cure, I can't believe that it isn't possible to tweak it. The nervous system and the brain are intertwined. Even if we can't return their memories, we might be able to correct the damage so that they can make new ones. I want to try at least."

He knew she had a point. He had created the Cruciatus Vomica Domintor to be specifically geared towards Lucius' afflictions, but that didn't mean that another potion, or a modification of the first, couldn't be made to alleviate a different genre of the curse's crippling effects. Creating such a thing, however, would be a major undertaking, requiring a vast amount of research into areas that he knew very little about.

If he knew anything about the woman in front of him, though, he knew that hard work wouldn't dissuade her. If she wanted to make something happen, she would, come hell or high water. It was one of the traits that he admired most in her Gryffindor spirit. He had witnessed the scene with her and the Longbottom boy this afternoon and knew that it had been the cause of this particular brainstorm of hers. He could sympathize with her desire to fix things for her friend, but he wasn't sure if he should encourage her optimism in this case. She smiled crookedly at him and he sighed in defeat. "I don't know if it's possible and it will take a tremendous amount of work, but if you want to explore the idea, I will help you however I can."

Hermione's grin widened into a brilliant, toothy smile. "Thank you."

"You are welcome." Snape plucked her hand off his chest and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. "You need to go now, though. Spend some time with your friends or whatever you need to do, but after dinner I want you in bed."

She caught the inadvertent double entendre and ran with it, smirking saucily up at him. "Oh really now? Yours or mine?"

Severus had kicked himself as soon as the words had left his mouth. His intention had been purely innocent but he obviously hadn't worded it properly. The witch, who seemed to live to wreck his composure lately, hadn't been about to let the error slide. He dropped her hand quickly and crossed his arms over his chest, putting up a defensive wall between them. He scowled sternly. "You know what I meant, Miss Granger."

She laughed at his reversal to her formal title and his obstinate body language. This newfound power to unsettle the notorious and formidable bat of the Hogwarts dungeons was quite delightful. She batted her eyelashes at him, a technique that she had seen Parvati implement hundreds of times, and boldly pulled his arms down. "More's the pity," she murmured then kissed him on the cheek, turned, and headed towards the door. "Good night, Severus."

Snape felt his ears grow warm as he watched the enchanting siren leave the classroom without another word. He shook his head and went back to his desk to start on the stack of essays waiting to be marked. She was going to be his demise. He could clearly see it now, but for the life of him, he couldn't seem to wipe the amused grin off his face.

* * *

There was a bounce in Hermione's step as she made her way back up to the Gryffindor common room. When she entered through the portrait hole, she spotted the boys messing about with their broomsticks by the fire, seemingly waiting for her arrival. They waved her over, but before she joined them, she cast her eyes around the large, circular tower chamber. Several inquisitive faces stared back at her, no doubt still curious about that morning's article. She ignored their unspoken questions, far more interested in the fact that Ginny was nowhere to be seen. She wondered if the younger girl had wandered away with a certain blond Seeker again. She smiled to herself and went to sit near the hearth with Harry and Ron.

Despite the wizards' disinterest, the Head Girl endeavored to get some homework completed in the interim before dinner. She was still behind on assignments but did want to heed Severus' advice and turn in early for the night. To accomplish both, she'd need to work quickly and finish as much as possible before they went down to the Great Hall.

By the time the clock tower announced supper, the studious witch had somehow managed to very nearly catch up on her workload. She only had two short essays left to write after dinner and then she'd be completely finished. Feeling good about her accomplishment and relieved to be near the end of the tunnel that she had dug herself into, Hermione happily followed the boys down to the dining hall. She was in too good of a mood to even notice the nosy glances still pointed in her direction.

Once seated at the Gryffindor table, she let her eyes drift lazily to the raised dais as they were so wont to do as of late. Snape was just coming through the staff entrance and his gaze immediately met hers, as if his first instinct had been to seek her out. She grinned and looked away, pleased with the idea that he might be just as preoccupied with her as she was with him. She thought back to the professor's discomfort at her earlier suggestive comment and chuckled to herself.

As the food began to appear between her and Harry and Ron, she realized that Ginny still hadn't shown up. She quickly glanced across the Great Hall to the Slytherin table and saw that Draco was absent as well. Their flirtation wasn't going to go unnoticed for long if they weren't a bit more careful. Of course she doubted whether either of them really cared about keeping it a secret. Sure, there'd be surprise when the news broke but it would be short-lived. The only ones that would have a major problem with it were the wizards sitting across the table from her currently and even they wouldn't be able to fight it for too long.

Ten minutes or so after dinner had begun, the redhead in question strode into the Great Hall looking thoroughly wind-swept. Draco entered directly behind her, sporting a rather smug expression. When Ginny took her seat beside Hermione, she was practically bouncing with pent up excitement and had a massive grin spread across her face.

"Oy," Ron exclaimed, seeing his little sister and realizing for the first time that she had been missing, "Where have you been?"

"Flying," the younger girl replied, her tone sounding a bit dreamy.

"By yourself?" he asked skeptically. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Ginny's grin took on a slightly wicked curl as she filled her plate. "I wasn't alone. Malfoy was with me."

"Malfoy!" Ron and Harry simultaneously repeated in alarm, looking aghast.

Hermione became suddenly engrossed in the potatoes on her plate. She couldn't believe the witch was being so bold. Actually, she could. Ginny was typically fiery and fearless — it was her biggest charm — but this was flat-out reckless. The boys were going to throw a fit right here in the Great Hall and the blame was going to inevitably reverberate back onto Hermione. She bit her lip and tried to fade into the background.

"Yes, Malfoy," Ginny replied unapologetically. "He's a good flyer. We threw around the Quaffle for a while. Lost track of time." She shrugged and started to eat, maintaining the illusion that the unusual situation had been no big deal.

Harry shook his head in exasperation. "Is there something going on in the girls' dormitories? Mold infestation or something that is making you all crazy?"

"You are _not_ allowed to fly or anything else with _Draco Malfoy_ ," Ron intoned in his overbearing older brother voice, which was entirely too reminiscent of Percy, and pinned his sister with a stern glare.

Ginny scowled darkly at him, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "I can do anything I want with whoever I feel like, Ronald Weasley. I'm not a little girl anymore and you don't get a say so."

The siblings stared off for several long, tense moments before Ron finally backed down, muttering under his breath about _fraternizing with the enemy_ as he tucked into his meal. It certainly wasn't the end of this particular war but the first small skirmish officially went to Ginny.

The Chaser grinned victoriously and then leaned over to whisper into Hermione's ear. "He kissed me."

The older witch's eyebrows rose in surprise. "That was quick," she murmured.

It was a mark of Ginny's experience with the opposite sex that she didn't even blush when she whispered back, "The rumors are true. He's a really _really_ good kisser."

Hermione giggled and then turned her attention back to her food before the boys became suspicious. Dinner passed by more or less in its usual manner after that. The subjects of Malfoy and Snape weren't mentioned again so that was at least an improvement. There was still a fair amount of whispering a pointing directed towards their end of the Gryffindor table from the rest of the hall but it was easy enough to disregard at this point. Hermione did notice that none of the occupants of the Slytherin table were involved in the gawking and idly wondered if Draco or Severus had had anything to do with that glaring abnormality.

Once dinner was over, the foursome went back up to the common room and the new Potions apprentice endeavored to finish up the last of her remaining homework. She ignored Harry and Ron's bickering about Quidditch tactics and Ginny's entreaties to gossip and concentrated wholeheartedly on the parchment and quill in front of her.

In a little over an hour, both assignments were complete and safely tucked away in her booksack. She sat back in the armchair and rolled her neck muscles. The Invigoration Draught was beginning to wear off and exhaustion was slowly creeping back into her bones. With a yawn, she stood, collected her things, and bade her friends a good night. It was time to follow Severus' advice and take herself to bed.

After climbing the dormitory steps up to her rooms and changing into a nightgown, Hermione pulled the potions journal out of her bag and crawled beneath her blankets. She was tired and needed to rest, but she wasn't quite sleepy yet. Her plan was to start reading through the next set of brewing instructions until her eyelids got as heavy as the rest of her muscles felt. Plus, if she began studying the notes tonight, she might be able to get them memorized before the potion's incubation period was complete.

She settled down into her pillows and flipped to the page where the first half of directions ended and Snape's spiky writing replaced her own cramped lettering. Before becoming fully immersed in the thoughts that the man had jotted down, she called for Crookshanks. He had been fairly demanding of attention as of late but the half-Kneazle was nowhere to be seen now. She wasn't really concerned — he had been free-roaming the castle and grounds since she had brought him here at the start of her third year — but almost missed his disgruntled meows and hisses. She snorted out loud when she realized that her love of the ornery beast wasn't all that different from her fondness for a certain cantankerous wizard.

Shaking off the amusing similarities her mind was starting to draw between her familiar and her suitor, Hermione focused her attention back on the book in her hands. Unsurprisingly, she read far longer than she had intended to. Almost two hours passed by, in fact, as she became engrossed in the detailed inner workings of the Cruciatus Vomica Domintor potion. Knowing how much harder the first stage had been to brew compared to simply watching, the instructions for the more complicated second half were beginning to make her nervous. It was going to require all the skill she possessed to keep from ruining the entire batch.

Sleepiness finally started to take over near the end of her dictation entry. She wiped her watery eyes and read on. She had almost reached the point that the Monkshood Oil was added and knew that there could only be a few pages left. She pushed through to the conclusion of the brewing directions and was about to shut the journal for the night when unfamiliar handwriting on the following page caught her eye.

The script was boxy and rigid and did not belong to her or Snape. She read a few lines and realized that the text was a transcribed conversation between Severus and Lucius about what the pure-blood had experienced before and during the administration of the potion. The professor must have used a charmed quill to take down the dialog because she hadn't been present to take notes during this particular exchange. She vaguely remembered Severus saying that he wanted to get some thoughts down on parchment for a future academic article so she assumed that this discussion had taken place after lunch on Sunday while she had taken a tour of Malfoy Manor with Draco.

Intrigue overruling exhaustion, the Head Girl poured through the conversation. Her eyes watered again as she read through the blond's accounts of his afflictions and the transformation that he had gone through, though sleepiness wasn't the cause. She could still see the blinding, healing white light vividly in her mind. It had been such an astounding sight to witness.

Once those riveting depictions were over, however, the witch became even more engrossed in the printed words that followed. The two wizards had discussed her! She chuckled at Lucius' attempts to question the slightly younger Slytherin about what was going on between the two of them and Severus' unconvincing denial. At this point in the weekend he had still been acting as if he felt nothing for her other than what was appropriate to his position as her teacher.

Though humorous, the conversation didn't surprise her, really. That was until she reached the very last line of the journal entry. Lucius had said, "I forget. Does Hermione resemble Lily Evans?"

The dictation ended abruptly after that. A deeply scratched line ran from the punctuation at the end of the question to the very edge of the page, like the quill had suddenly been displaced, and then there was nothing further written. The last quarter of the book's pages was completely blank.

Hermione read and reread the line over and over again in shock, expecting the words to suddenly rearrange themselves into something that made more sense. When they didn't, she rubbed her tired eyes and looked again. The question was still there, stubbornly etched in black ink on the stark white paper. _Does Hermione resemble Lily Evans?_ She wasn't imagining it.

Evans had been Harry's mother's maiden name. Hermione had known that small, inconsequential fact for years now. But this transcribed text seemed to suggest that Severus had, at some point, been involved with Lily and that notion was definitely _not_ insignificant. Snape and Harry's mum — good Grindylows!

The slim book fell out of her slightly trembling hands and she snatched it back up again. She tore her eyes from the daunting question and scrolled back up several lines to be sure that she was getting the correct impression of what exactly was being implied.

Peppered amongst the mild insults that the two wizards had exchanged were Lucius' accusations that Snape had been acting oddly towards his student. The pure-blood had then said that he had only seen his old friend act that way o _nce_ before, with another Gryffindor no less. What way was the man referring to? Sarcastic? Harsh? Teasing? Flirtatious? Severus had treated her in all those manners during their time with the Malfoys. Then there had been a warning from the dark-haired Slytherin or at least the words _Watch your step, Lucius_ felt like a warning as she read them — without hearing the inflection that the snarky man had used, it was hard to be sure. And then there was _the_ question.

Hermione felt like her brain was turning to mush as she tried to understand exactly what she was reading. Snape had acted in a certain way towards or because of Lily Potter — Lily Evans at the time, which would have had to of been while they were in school together or at least before Harry's parents had gotten married. Had Snape and Lily dated? Had the man that had so recently ensnared her own senses once been in love with the witch that would become her best friend's mother? The woman whose love for her son was so great, so all-encompassing that it had saved the boy from Voldemort not once but every single time that they had encountered each other?

As her head spun, Hermione remembered what Draco had said about Snape's past love life. The conversation felt like a lifetime ago now even though it had barely been a few days. He had told her that Severus had fancied a girl that had married someone else and that the wizard had never really gotten over the rejection. Through the various conversations that she and Severus had had, she had drawn the conclusion that the girl had been Narcissa Black, who had later become Narcissa Malfoy. But the question that now taunted her from the open journal in her hand was suggesting that that assumption had been incorrect. Snape hadn't been in love with Narcissa; he had been in love with Lily and she had married Harry's dad instead. No wonder the man hated James Potter! Hell, this theory, if correct, even explained why Severus had always seemed to strongly dislike Harry too. If the taciturn wizard had had an unrequited attraction to the boy's mother, it was no wonder that he had loathed the proof of her disinterest — her offspring with another man.

At that startling realization, Hermione jumped from the bed and threw her school robes on over her pajamas. She needed to talk to Severus immediately. She had to find out if all this guesswork had any truth to it and could not wait until the following day.

Still clutching the little black book, she quickly considered her options and what would be the best course of action. It was just barely past curfew but that wasn't really a deterrent from leaving the castle tower. The thought that Harry and Ron were likely still in the common room did give her pause, however. She didn't fancy having to explain to them why she so urgently needed to go to the dungeons long after she had supposedly went to bed. She also didn't feel up to traversing seven floors of the school in her current anxious and exhausted state.

Lacking a better-suited alternative, she strode over to the unlit fireplace on the far wall of her bedchamber. When she had been awarded the status of Head Girl and these rooms, Dumbledore had explained that the hearth was connected to the school's Floo system in case an emergency arose. The Headmaster might not consider this particular errand an emergency but she sure the hell did. She lit a fire in the grate with her wand and grabbed the small can of Floo powder from the mantle.

As she opened the can, the shrill voice of her conscience suddenly spoke up, questioning what she was about to do. Not only had she ignored Severus' instructions to go to bed early but she was about to bend several school rules in order to break into his private chambers and confront him about something that, if true, he had probably been hiding for years. Could she do that? Was she ready to render herself _and_ the wizard so vulnerable? Would he be angry with her? Would he simply deny the proof that she had stumbled across? Could this jeopardize what they had already built between them?

The last mental question worried her the most. It would break her heart if questioning Severus about Lily Potter put an end to their budding courtship. She couldn't remember ever feeling so happy and complete as she did when she was in his arms. But she couldn't just sit on this information and not ask him about it. She knew that he had had a secretive past but she couldn't see how they could be successful as a couple if they weren't able to discuss it. It would have undoubtedly been easier if they had been further along in their relationship before any of this had come up, but things being what they were, she couldn't move forward with her feelings until she knew the truth to this mystery.

Biting her lip, Hermione threw a pinch of the magical powder into the fire and waited until the flames turned green before stepping in amongst them. She took a shaky breath, trying not to inhale ash, and announced, "Severus Snape's Private Quarters!" In a whoosh of emerald sparks, she was gone.

A moment later the Gryffindor witch tumbled out of the fireplace and into the cozy chamber that she had been in the evening before. She quickly glanced around. The room was mostly the same except that the table that they had shared dinner at was now gone. In its place sat a black leather sofa, upon which the Potions Master was reclined, his crossed feet resting on the coffee table in front of him and a book in his hands.

"How did you know that my Floo would be unwarded?" he asked, staring at her with a raised eyebrow. He didn't seem to be angry or overly surprised to see her, merely curious. That made two of them.

"Lucky guess, I suppose," she replied offhandedly. "I didn't really think about it."

At this the wizard frowned. "Didn't think about the fact that the castle's Floo system is monitored either, did you?"

Hermione blinked. No, she hadn't realized that the unconventional method of travel within the school was watched, but she didn't really care if it was. She was Snape's apprentice now so a visit to his rooms could be satisfactorily explained if need be.

"And didn't I ask you to turn in early tonight and get some sleep?" he asked before she could reply to his last question. He sat upright, put his feet on the ground, and sat his book on the table, all without taking his eyes from the girl's face. He couldn't decipher what had made her take such a risk to show up here unannounced. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy seeing her, but beside the fact that she had disobeyed his direct order to rest, her unexpected presence in his private rooms made him slightly uncomfortable. It was hard enough to resist her allure when they weren't somewhere so secluded with such easy access to a bed.

"I…" She swallowed, unsure what to say now that she was here. They were still in the awkward first stages of their relationship which meant that she wasn't completely comfortable being totally upfront and honest with the man yet. He had been her teacher and a rather stern authoritarian for the past seven years of her life; that precedence didn't go away overnight. It helped somewhat that he was in far more casual attire than she had ever seen him in. His feet were bare and he was wearing simple black trousers and a button-down starched white shirt. The lack of robes made him look far less intimidating, though disconcerting in a whole different way.

With another deep breath, she forced out the question, consequences be damned. "Were you in love with Harry's mum?"

Something undeterminable flashed through the wizard's eyes and his face turned a bit ashen in the firelight. There was a definite icy edge to his tone when he asked, "Excuse me?"

Hermione felt as if her heart was going to explode from her chest cavity. "Were you in love with Lily Potter?" she restated. There was no way to undo any of this now.

Severus blinked stupidly at the little witch, wondering if it were possible that he had misheard her twice. How in the hell had she come to that conclusion? Nearly everyone that had ever known that closely-guarded secret was now dead. Mental defenses sprung up involuntarily as did an inexplicable fury. He narrowed his eyes. "Why would you ask such a thing?"

The impertinent girl opened the small book in her hand, flipped several pages, and then approached him. He noticed in her tremulous steps that she wasn't wearing anything on her feet and that her delicate toes still shone green in the flickering light. It was funny the odd things that one's mind would latch on to in moments of pure panic. When she reached the edge of the sofa, she timidly held out the journal to him and he could see the obvious tremble in her fingers.

"I was studying the potion notes," she said weakly.

He snatched the book from her with a little more force than was necessary and it startled her. She took a step back from him in surprise.

Unable to worry about her reaction at the moment, he stared down at the page that she had presented to him. He scanned the lines quickly until he came to the final words, the question that Lucius had proposed — the one that had obviously propelled her down here to foolishly confront him about something that was none of her damn business. His first instinct was to throw her out of his rooms without another word, let alone an explanation.

He shut the journal with a snap, threw it down on the coffee table that he had just transfigured the previous evening for their first official dinner date, and stared up at the witch coldly. Her bottom lip was sucked into her mouth where she was worrying it fretfully between her teeth and her brown eyes were wet with unshed tears. He could not tell from her expression if she was upset or scared or both, but regardless which, it was his instant undoing. He let out a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of his large nose, his anger abating as quickly as it had flared. "Please sit," he said softly.

Though she did as he asked, Severus noticed that the witch sat as far away from him as was possible. He had frightened her with his anger. Damn it all to hell. Damn his temper, damn his failure for not checking the last journal entry before giving it back to her, and double damn Lucius and his bloody meddling for asking such a thing to begin with. He needed a stiff drink.

Removing himself from the leather cushions, he went to the small cabinet that served as his bar and poured himself a healthy measure of Firewhiskey. He downed the fiery beverage in a single gulp and refilled the glass before looking over at the girl. "Would you like something to drink?"

He saw her wipe her eyes before turning to look at him and he cursed himself. He had made her cry. Contrary to popular opinion, he did not relish making women cry, especially not this woman and especially not now. He cleared his throat to banish the hard lump forming there and glanced back to the liquor cabinet. "I know that you don't like bourbon but I have some mild elderberry wine or I could conjure a pot of tea."

"Tea please," she replied in a small voice and he could feel her wet eyes on the back of his neck.

He fetched the tea service from the bottom shelf and filled it with his wand. He briefly considered adding a few drops of a Calming Draught but quickly dismissed the idea. If he wanted to continue courting the beautiful young witch, they would have to have a frank and honest discussion and dulling her senses would not be a wise way to start.

Carrying the tea tray and his glass of whiskey back to the low table, he took his seat, poured his apprentice a cup of the steaming beverage, and handed it to her. Her expression as she accepted the piece of china made his throat constrict again. He wanted to pull her towards him and kiss her until she forgot about his inexcusable behavior. He sighed again, knowing that another apology was needed first and foremost. He couldn't remember ever apologizing so many times in such a short span of time.

"Please forgive me, Hermione. I did not mean to frighten you," he started softly, staring into the crackling fire. He took a small sip from his glass. "I'm sure you realize by now that I am a very private person. I did not intend for you to ever find out about…that." He gestured to the gods-forsaken journal. "You caught me off-guard and my automatic impulse was to fall back on anger."

Hermione had been holding the warm cup to her lips and inhaling the steamy aroma as she watched him speak. She could tell that he was being honest and knew that that was never easy for the former spy. Yes, his initial response had frightened her but not in the way he thought that it had. She didn't care if he was angry. How many times over the years had she seen this man lash out in anger? Millions, probably. His anger was not a phenomenon nor did it scare her. What had scared her was the fear that her probing into his past had decimated any chances that she might have had for a place in his future. That worry, the thought of losing something that she was just beginning to realize, frightened her in way that she had never experienced before.

She took a fortifying sip of tea as he turned to face her. "I don't care if you get mad at me, Severus. I told you the other night that I knew what I was getting myself into in regards to you. I know you have a temper and an unsavory disposition. I'm fully aware that you are bound to get angry or frustrated with me on occasion. I'm a big girl and I can handle it." He snorted derisively and she gave him a pert smile before continuing. "What upset me was the worry that you were going to dismiss me without even discussing the issue."

He threw back another shot of Firewhiskey before admitting that he nearly had done just that. She nodded, took a sip of tea, and then leveled with him. "I'm inquisitive. There's absolutely nothing I can do about that; it's who I am. And I know you realize that because you've cursed me enough times over the years for it."

He made to say something but she held up a hand to stop him. She really didn't have any more patience for his defensive snark at the moment. "You had an entire life before I was even born, Severus. I'm going to be curious about it, even if it wasn't pretty. The only way that this is going to work between us is if you accept that fact and trust me enough to be honest."

His dark gaze was calculating but not unkind. There was a warmth within those fathomless depths, mingled with a profound sense of vulnerability. "What is it that you really want from me, Hermione? From this?" He waved his hand through the space between them, indicating the tentative relationship that was forming.

"I just told you — honesty," she replied without hesitation or consideration but then added, "and trust. I want you to trust me, of course, but more than that, I want you to trust yourself enough to let down those bloody walls of yours." She sat her tea cup down and scooted a bit closer to the wizard, taking his free hand in hers. "I like you, Severus, and for now, I'd just like to see where that may lead us."

With a twitch of his lips, Severus set his half-empty glass on the table, angled himself on the sofa, and opened his arms to invite the little witch into his embrace. With a grin, she moved closer and turned so that her back was pressed against his chest and he encircled her with his arms. Her head fit perfectly in the crook under his chin. He placed a kiss on the top of her curls, thanking whatever forces had conspired to bring this determined, crazy woman into his life. No one else would have gone through even half the trouble she had had to endure just to get near him. She was remarkable.

"I like you too, Hermione," he murmured close to her ear before resting back against the cushions. "And I will try to answer whatever questions you have as honestly as I can, just remember that such things do not come easily or naturally to me."

The Gryffindor snuggled a little closer into the wizard's arms. He was already so much better at this relationship stuff than he realized. He at least tried. It would never be perfect — perfect didn't exist — but it was already starting to feel damn close. Now they just needed to get through the little matter that she had come here to talk about. She ghosted her fingers over the backs of his hands, which were resting against her stomach, and bit the proverbial bullet. "Tell me about Lily."

She felt his muscles tense momentarily, even though she knew he was trying his best to appear relaxed. She grabbed his glass of bourbon and handed it to him before leaning back against him to quietly wait. She could offer him comfort and understanding but he had to do the talking. It somehow felt just as important for him to say it as it was for her to hear it.

Severus took a long drink of the proffered beverage. This was going to be difficult. He had never actually shared the whole story with anyone and every fiber of his being was trying to prevent him from doing so now. It was against his very nature to divulge his personal secrets. With a heavy sigh, he began anyway, knowing that it had to be done. "Lily Evans and I were friends before coming to Hogwarts. We lived near each other and magic drew us together."

Hermione already felt the persistent urge to interrupt. Lucius had mentioned that Snape had a family home named Prince Estates. Judging by what she knew of Harry's mom's past, which admittedly wasn't a lot, she didn't think that the Muggle-born witch had grown up next door to a manor house large enough for such a prestigious title. The two things didn't add up, but she held her tongue. She knew that if she stopped him now, he might never get started again. Instead she focused her nervous energy on worrying the shirt button at the wizard's wrist.

"She was the only witch in her family so she had no idea what to make of her burgeoning abilities. I was half-blood so I at least knew what was happening, but my father forbade anything magical in his house. So for years before we received our letters, we would hide together in the woods that separated our houses and try to master the magic that neither of us truly understood. When we came to Hogwarts, it was comforting to already have an ally. I've never made friends easily, even as a child."

"Me either," Hermione said quietly, still fidgeting with his cuff.

The wizard's lips twitched. The girl had always been too smart and too bossy for her peers. He had watched that dynamic play out for years. Though her current friendships were very close, they were also few in number. Still, he carried on as if he hadn't heard her. "We were sorted into different houses, obviously, but remained friends. We both had an aptitude for Potions and were lab partners for years."

He took another sip of whiskey, letting the amber liquid burn at the constriction building in his throat. The story would be harder to tell from here out. "Lily was the first person, outside of my mother, to show any sort of care or concern. And as I got older, my feelings for her began to change, evolve. I… I began to love her in a way quite set apart from mere friendship."

Hermione held in the sigh that she could feel building in her chest at his admittance. She had been right. He had been in love Lily and there was no way that this story had a happy ending. She felt a tiny spark of jealousy but it was eclipsed by pity and sadness.

"Then one day, at the very end of our fifth year, I did something that changed everything," he continued, a cold bitterness creeping into his tone. "There was an incident and she tried to defend me against James Potter and Sirius Black. Instead of being grateful, I was humiliated at having to be rescued by a _girl_. With wounded pride, I lashed out in anger and called her… something unforgivable."

Hermione's hands stilled. After a long moment of silence, when the man seemed unable to elaborate, she asked, "What did you say?" in a whisper. She felt his muscles tense again.

"I called her a _Mudblood_ ," Snape spat out forcefully. All these years later and he still loathed the word. Before he had called Lily that, he had been able to say it effortlessly, had been able to use it as the cutting insult that it was meant to be whenever the chance arose. But the use of it that day had signaled the end of one of the only good things he had ever had in his life. The vile word hadn't willingly passed his lips since.

A sigh escaped the Muggle-born this time. It was a nasty thing to call someone but it was also just a word. Draco had called her a Mudblood dozens of times over the years and they had still managed to become friends. If this was the end of the wizard's story, if Lily had ended a friendship over the single use of a word, she was going to be a bit disillusioned.

"By the time that incident had taken place, Lily had already voiced her suspicions about my choice of acquaintances, namely Lucius and the other notorious pure-bloods from Slytherin. For her, it was the last straw. She was hurt and angry and worried that I had already begun down a path that she couldn't follow."

Hermione went back to fiddling with his shirt button, releasing it to expose the smooth pale skin beneath. She ran her fingertips across it and then meticulously folded the cuff several times. Anything to distract her from the questions his words raised or the desire to stop him because it seemed painful for him to continue.

"I apologized many times but she never fully forgave me and it got to the point that I couldn't look at her anymore. Every time I did, I was reminded of how I had hurt her, how I had screwed everything up, and how I had behaved just like my father. The fact that I had inherited anything from that loathsome man, especially something as foul as his temper, was a particularly bitter pill to swallow." He finished off the last of his drink, reached over to sit it back on the table, and then sat back again, wrapping his now free arm back around the witch.

"After she stopped talking to me, she began to associate more and more with the other Gryffindors, especially Potter and Black, which only made me angrier. And I fell in deeper with the Slytherins. Before I knew it and before I could forgive myself, Lily was dating Potter and I had pledged myself to the Dark Lord."

At this announcement, the muscle in the wizard's left arm jerked convulsively and Hermione took hold of it gingerly. As she had with the other, she unbuttoned the cuff and carefully rolled the sleeve. The action exposed a large tangle of pearly scar tissue along the underside of his forearm — the place where the Dark Mark had once been burned. She had only seen Snape's mark once, in her fourth year during the chaotic events following the Triwizard Tournament, but hadn't had a clear view then and had never seen it again — the man was always so fastidiously covered up. She ran her index finger over the patch of raised tissue gently, half expecting him to snatch his arm away from her touch. When he didn't, it felt like another significant hurdle had been surpassed. This was the single most intimate moment that they had shared thus far.

Severus watched the girl finger the scaly flesh where his link to the Dark Lord had once resided. It was an odd gesture, to lovingly caress something so vile and repulsive, but he allowed her to continue. It was another example of her strange magic, her ability to forgive his mistakes at face value without hesitation. He still wasn't sure if it made her brave or foolish but it seemed to act as a balm on his blackened soul nonetheless.

"Were you still in love with her when you became a Death Eater?" Hermione asked softly after several long minutes of the man's silence.

He nodded tersely but then realized that she couldn't see the movement from her position against him. "Yes. But I also hated her."

"That doesn't make any sense," she replied with a slightly creased brow. Perhaps she was showing her naïveté but she just didn't get it. "How can you love and hate someone at the same time?"

He sighed, feeling the weight of memories drag him down further, before explaining. "I still loved the girl that I had practiced magic with so innocently in the woods of our childhood, but I hated the mere thought of the witch she had become because it reminded me of all my faults and all my mistakes. Lily had feared that I was turning dark, but it was her rejection that spurred me to become a Death Eater. I wanted revenge against Muggles like my father, and at the time, twisted and warped by anger and grief as my thoughts were, I wanted revenge against Muggle-borns like her as well."

His fingers twisted around a few of the witch's curls seemingly on their own accord. "You have to understand, the Dark Lord's allure was very seductive. He promised his followers power, prestige, and brotherhood. He vowed that I would never again have to fear ridicule or rejection, and I was drawn in like a moth to a flame." His voice lowered to barely a whisper. "As you said, at one point I did enjoy all that it meant to follow Voldemort. I wish that I could tell you that I didn't but that would not be the truth."

Hermione pivoted her torso to look at him, slipping her hair out of his hand in the movement. His pale face was drawn into a pinched, unpleasant scowl and his dark eyes swam with a tidal wave of self-loathing. All of this had happened nearly two decades ago and he still hadn't forgiven himself. Everything that he had done since, in service of the light, and he still hated himself for the mistakes he had made in childhood. That hatred had literally shaped the man staring back at her. It was incredible and tragic.

The very least she could do, she decided, was to show him that she didn't hold any of his past against him. She placed a hand on his chest and slid the other to the back of his neck, beneath his curtain of hair. In the instance right before she placed her lips to his, she saw a different set of emotions flicker across his countenance — gratitude, longing, and something a bit like awe.

They kissed for several long moments before Hermione pulled back from the wizard's mouth. She appraised his flushed complexion and warm eyes and smiled. "There now, that's much better." She turned back around and reclaimed her position against him. "Carry on."

Severus chuckled lightly at the witch's cheek and it felt good. As much as he had detested the idea of divulging his most closely guarded secrets, he did feel less burdened for having done so. And the girl's mood-altering efforts were far preferential to any he had ever experienced. He slipped his wand out and waved it at the tea service, bringing it to hover right beside them. He poured them both a fresh cup.

"Thank you," Hermione said as she accepted the warm beverage. She took a sip in time with his.

"After graduation," he finally continued, his voice strong and smooth again, "we did not see each other again. I fell deeper into the ranks of the Dark Lord and Lily married James Potter. It wasn't long before she became pregnant and then Voldemort got word of the prophecy. He immediately began to plot how to destroy the boy and it was at that point that things changed again." He paused for another gulp of tea.

"That was the catalyst wasn't it?" she asked, having just figured out a piece of the puzzle. "Voldemort's decision to go after Harry is what divided you from the Death Eaters."

"In a manner of speaking. It was the fear that something would happen to Lily. I could not bear the idea of her dying without ever having made amends."

"You still loved her." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," he replied solemnly. "I attempted to convince the Dark Lord to spare her, for my sake if nothing else, but he was obsessed with the prophecy and wanted the entire Potter family dead just to be safe."

It wasn't lost on Hermione that it sounded as if the wizard had only petitioned the evil megalomaniac for Lily's life and had been perfectly content to allow Voldemort to kill James and Harry. It bothered her a bit, on principle, but she let it slide, eager to hear the story to its conclusion.

"When he refused," Snape continued, ignorant to what the girl in his arms was thinking, "I did the only thing that I knew to do. I went to the one person that Voldemort had ever feared."

"Dumbledore."

He nodded though she still couldn't see it. "I prostrated myself to Dumbledore to protect her, to protect them all. He agreed but not without a cost. I had to become a double spy for the Order."

The Gryffindor gasped. She couldn't help it. She and the boys had speculated for years as to how Snape had come to be part of the Order and what had possessed him to endanger himself to spy on Voldemort from within his own ranks. Harry had never been convinced of the man's loyalties and come to find out it was because of the boy hero's mother all along. What a tangled web!

"Albus Dumbledore may appear to be many things, but make no mistake that he is just as cunning and shrewd as the Dark Lord had ever hoped to be," the former Death Eater said in serious tone. "I needed Lily's life spared and he manipulated that to suite his needs for inside information. I agreed of course. I would've agreed to anything to keep her safe."

He sighed and said, "But Dumbledore's plan failed. The Potters put their trust and their secret in the wrong hands. At the time, I believed, like everyone else, that Black had double crossed them. But none of that really mattered. Despite everything I had done to prevent it, Lily died and with her, a piece of myself."

"Oh Severus," she said sadly, tears forming in her eyes. This was truly the most depressing tale that she had ever heard. Her heart felt as if it were breaking over something that hadn't even involved her and that had taken place when she was just a toddler.

The dark-haired wizard gulped down the remaining tea in his mug as if it could wash away all the bitter memories with it. He sighed again, deeply, and forged ahead. "With her gone and the chance to ever redeem my errors obliterated, the love that I had once felt for her morphed into an intense hatred for Voldemort. I wanted to die but I wanted revenge even more. Dumbledore convinced me that the only way I could achieve that end and repay what I owed to Lily's memory was to help protect what she died to defend."

"Harry," Hermione said, silent tears streaking down her cheeks.

"Quite. Which is how I came to work here, in a position where I could keep the boy safe until the Dark Lord eventually came back to try and finish what he had started."

She suddenly stood up to reposition herself so that she could face him, feeling the need to see his eyes again. Once she was settled, he surprised her by reaching out to wipe away her tears with his long calloused fingers.

"Why are you crying, woman?" he chastised. "This is all very old news."

She scowled playfully. "Not to me. It's all fresh information for me and rather tragic. All this time Harry has thought that you hated him…"

"I do hate him," Severus replied with a sneer. "I will never understand why you are friends with that boy."

Hermione rolled her eyes. She had connected more dots than the wizard obviously realized. "You do not hate him. You have risked your life a million times to protect him. You loved his mother. Granted, you two will probably never get along but that isn't because of hate. He reminds you of Lily. His eyes — everyone says he has her eyes. And he reminds you that she chose James Potter over you. You don't hate him, you hate the memories that he evokes." She said all of this and then bit her lip, realizing far too late how blunt it had sounded.

Severus glared at the now blushing witch sternly but wasn't all that surprised by her astute assessment. He had been subjected to her unflinching appraisal of his character enough times already that her insight didn't shock him. And she was mostly right. He had hated Potter since the moment that he had first laid eyes on him because the boy looked uncannily like his father, a sight which conjured many unpleasant memories of being taunted and teased for everything from the size of his nose to the shabbiness of his robes. The second, more complicated impression had come during the scrawny boy's first lesson in the dungeons when Snape had gotten a good look at his eyes close up. Dumbledore had been right. They were the exact shape and color of Lily's and it had been so startling to see them peering up at him, years after the woman's death, that he had done the only thing that he could think to do — he had treated the child cruelly. Potter had inherited James' temper and it hadn't been difficult to make the boy loathe him, which ensured that those eyes that so resembled his mother's would never look at him with admiration, care, concern, or pity as hers once had. It had been a coping mechanism that had bloomed into a mutual hatred on both their parts and it suited him just fine. He would never be comfortable being amiable with the offspring of his former love and his former rival.

"I'm sorry, Severus. That was harsh," Hermione said contritely, fidgeting with her teacup. "But so much makes sense now, so much we never understood. It's incredible really and when I tell Harry—"

"You will do no such thing!" he barked, cutting her off mid-sentence. He glowered darkly at her and then at the fire when he caught the spark of fear in her eyes again. "I told you all of that because you practically insisted and because I want to make an effort at building something between us, Hermione." His voice softened as he pronounced her name but then hardened again. "I did not tell you so that you can run off and tell Potter in a vain attempt to humanize me. I have kept these secrets for a very long time for a reason. They are _my_ secrets."

"But I…" she started and then faltered, feeling as if she were back to walking on eggshells again. "I just thought that if Harry knew that you cared so deeply for his mum that it would help him to see you as less of an enemy."

"I have no desire to change Potter's opinion of me. Just because I wish to spend more time with _you_ does not mean that I am envisioning tea parties with Potter and five or six Weasleys."

"But…" she began again, only to be silenced with a look that she had seen all too often in the classroom, one that had always meant to shut up and put her hand down. Her mouth closed with an audible pop.

"I told you the other day that I would not ask you to keep things from your friends, but this is different," Snape said quietly, looking at her with a strange, searching gaze. "If you care for me, Hermione, then you will not repeat any of this conversation to anyone, most especially Harry Potter."

She frowned. He wasn't playing fair, using her feelings for him against her. Damn Slytherins. "Why do you conceal the best of yourself, Severus? Your compassion? Your heart?"

The wizard frowned as well. Dumbledore had once asked the same thing of him, years ago. He had not had a decent answer then either. The witch yawned suddenly and the sound shook him from his recollection. He glanced at the small clock on the mantle to confirm what he had already suspected — it had grown very late. The girl, already operating solely on stimulant potion, had once again stayed up entirely too long because of him. It was becoming a dangerous pattern that he needed to break.

"You should be in bed, Hermione," he said softly, ignoring what he hoped she would consider a rhetorical question.

She shook her head slightly. "I don't want to go yet. Not after you've filled my head with all of this. I want to stay with you for a while longer. Please." She gave him her best interpretation of puppy eyes, lamenting her lack of feminine wiles for the millionth time. "Will you read to me again?"

Severus smirked. He knew that she thought her powers of seduction were virtually nonexistent, but the truth was that there was very little that she wouldn't be able to talk him into with that crooked little smile of hers. He plucked his book from the coffee table, readjusted himself on the sofa again, and propped his bare feet up before beckoning to her.

Hermione brightly and moved to rest against his chest once again, stretching out her legs over the cushions and sighing contentedly. He held the book, whose title she had yet to catch, in his right hand, rested on the back of the couch, and wrapped his left arm around her abdomen. She toyed with his long fingers and the exposed skin of his forearm as he began to read without further ado. She turned her head to the side, to allow the rumble of his chest and the beat of his heart to reverberate comfortably in her ear, and faced the fire.

After less than a paragraph, she deduced what he was reading and smiled sleepily. He was such a delightfully eclectic reader. " _Crime and Punishment_?"

He paused and glanced down at the mass of curly hair tucked against him. "A bit heavier than _Pride and Prejudice_ but I can identify with the plot more than a romance."

The Head Girl giggled. "Whatever you say, Mr. Darcy." She was starting to feel a bit punch drunk. It had been such a long day and tonight's conversation had been so emotionally draining that she hadn't even begun to process it.

The wizard ignored her comment and began to read aloud again. She didn't have to see his face to know that his eyebrow had raised and his lips had twitched. She grinned and let her eyes flutter shut as the professor's deep voice washed over her like silk. She was fast asleep before he finished the chapter.

Severus continued to read until he was positive that the girl was out cold. He had known it wouldn't take long. She had been pushing herself past exhaustion for days now. He closed the book and rested it on the back of the leather couch before carefully readjusting her so that her head was cradled between his lap and his arm. He gently brushed away the curls that had fallen over her face, tucking them behind her ear. And then he studied her face, her delicate features soft in the firelight. Like it had the night in Lucius' library, the sight of her, looking so utterly peaceful, was mesmerizing and this time he felt justified in gazing at her. The last time his attention had felt lecherous, but tonight he was simply admiring _his_ witch. He hadn't physically claimed her as his own yet, and wouldn't for several more months, but in every other way, he now considered her his — not his possession, mind you, but a treasure that he was somehow lucky enough to call his own.

He had told her things this evening that he had never planned to divulge to another living soul. Surprisingly, it had been rather cathartic. He had been carrying around so many secrets for so long that letting some of them go had felt mildly freeing. And her unconditional acceptance of everything she had heard had caused the gaping hole in his chest to mend to the slightest degree. He still felt mildly guilty about becoming involved with her, as young and promising as she was, but he was well beyond the point of doing anything about that feeling. He would now hold on until she would no longer have him. Devotion had always been his strong suite.

Snape simply watched the Muggle-born witch sleep in his arms for a long time. It was honestly the highlight of his day. And she had gotten such little rest as of late that he abhorred the idea of disturbing her. After more than an hour had silently passed by, however, he knew that he had to return her to her own room. His conscience wasn't yet ready to allow her to sleep in his bed, even if she was in it alone, and gods forbid if anyone noticed that she was gone from Gryffindor tower. It hadn't been an empty threat when he told her that Dumbledore could monitor the inter-school Floo network if he so wished and he knew that Potter still had that blasted map of the castle. A short visit to his chambers could be fairly easily explained, an overnight stay could not.

He debated his options for a few minutes as the woman's deep, rhythmic breathing melded with sounds of the crackling fire. He could wake her up and send her back through the Floo on her own volition, but he worried that the steps necessary for that plan to work successfully would rouse her too much for her to fall back to sleep. He could also summon a house-elf to transport her to her bed. He knew that the creatures were capable of such things and that they would be discreet, but for whatever reason he dismissed this idea as well. The truth was, upon introspection, he felt the desire to carry her back to her bedroom and tuck her in himself.

Using his wand, he ever-so-carefully levitated her prone form a few inches into the air so that he could slip from beneath her and stand. He then went quickly to the hearth and threw a pinch of Floo powder into the flames. As the room became bathed in eerie, dancing green light, he gathered the still-sleeping witch against his chest, supporting her neck with one arm and her bum with the other, and released the suspension charm. Her slight weight felt comforting as it settled onto his muscles. She sighed softly and nuzzled against him and he smiled, knowing that the books lining the walls would be his only witness.

Cautious not to wake her, Severus walked back to the fireplace, stepped into the magical fire, and quietly announced, "Head Girl Private Quarters." In a swirl of green flames, the couple disappeared and reappeared in a darkened chamber at the very top of Gryffindor tower.

As the tall wizard stepped out of the hearth, a loud hiss echoed from across the room. He paused and shifted the witch in his arms so that he could extract his wand. With a muttered, " _Lumos_ ," the tip ignited and he shone it in the direction of the feral noise. Perched on the bed, its hackles raised, was a mangy, orange ball of fluff with a squashed face. It hissed angrily again. He knew this cat; he had had altercations with it at Order headquarters. Lupin reckoned it was part Kneazle but Snape was positive that it was one hundred percent bastard. If he got attacked while trying to put the girl to bed, she would be hearing about it the following day and for days thereafter. Erring on the side of caution, he shot harmless red sparks towards the disgruntled feline with his wand, scaring the creature out of the room.

With a satisfied smirk he crossed the small space in three quick strides and pointed his wand at the bed again to fold down the blankets. He gently laid the small witch onto the pillows. In all the movement, her school robes had fallen open to reveal a soft pink cotton nightgown stretched over her breasts and riding high on her thighs. He felt his ears grow warm and his pulse accelerate at the sight. Feeling like a letch once again, he pulled the covers up to lay across her collarbone then appraised his handiwork. She was still out cold and appeared quite content and comfortable and would surely sleep soundly until the morning. Pleased, he bent and placed a feather-light kiss to her forehead before quietly Flooing back to his own rooms.

* * *

A/N: I played around a bit with the history of Snape & Lily to fit my vision of this Severus. Some of it is canon, some canon-implied, and some an interpretation to suit my needs.


	25. Chapter 25

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE**

 _June, the following year. Graduation day._

Hermione was lying in bed in her private quarters on her very last morning as a seventh-year student. It had been an immensely weird school year. As the best friend of Harry Potter every year at Hogwarts had been bizarre and adventurous but this one had taken the cake. There had been no evil plots, mass murderers, or subterfuge, but events had been odd in a completely different kind of way. She had taken part in the creation of an incredible medicinal cure, had become an accredited Potions Apprentice, had seduced the one professor in the entire school who was least likely to allow such a thing, had become friends with Draco Malfoy of all people, and had facilitated a relationship between Malfoy and Ginny Weasley. Odd didn't seem to be an adequate descriptive.

The Muggle-born was feeling the tiniest bit melancholy that the year, as strange as it had been, was over. Lessons had concluded two weeks ago and she and the other members of the graduating class had sat their final N.E.W.T. exams the day before yesterday. It was hard to believe that she'd never again sit through a class within the castle's stone walls. Severus had told her that she would be guest-teaching some of his first-year classes next semester, to satisfy the teaching requirements of her internship, but it wouldn't be the same. She loved school, loved being a student, and had since her very first day of primary. The thought that she might never be a formal student again wasn't a necessarily pleasant one for the witch.

She was, however, somewhat glad to be finished with Potions classes. It wasn't the subject that she had grown tired of, of course, or the professor by any means, but the incredibly awkward tension that permeated each dungeon lesson had grown rather tedious. It had become increasingly difficult to pretend that she wasn't more than just another N.E.W.T. level pupil in Snape's presence. He had been augmenting her assignments ever since they had registered the Vomica Domintor potion so that the lessons could be counted towards her apprenticeship, but it had been so hard to be so close to the man without being able to talk to him, to argue with him, or to touch him, while she worked. She had long since lost count of how many times she had had to resort to pulling him into the warded store cupboard during class in order to either yell at him or snog him senseless. Actually, she would miss that part.

Her relationship with the surly wizard had changed and evolved in the months since they had talked about Lily Potter. It had taken her quite a while to digest and analyze that particular bombshell but the discussion had done wonders for Snape. The conversation had been a catalyst of sorts, forming a fissure in his defensive mental walls and the barriers had been slowly but surely crumbling ever since. He still didn't volunteer much in the way of personal information but he rarely denied her answers when she asked a direct question anymore. She had learned quickly which areas of inquiry to avoid because there were still some topics that always seemed to abruptly curtail the evening when mentioned. She had asked once, for example, if he had ever killed anyone. She had been curious and didn't consider the ramifications of the question before it had tumbled out of her mouth. His hard silence and dark expression had been answer enough and had left him in a foul mood for the rest of the night.

He was an insanely difficult person to get close to but she had learned quite a few tactics on how to handle the introverted man over the eight some-odd months that they had been courting. They had managed to garner a surprising amount of time alone together during those months, thanks to her apprenticeship. Before N.E.W.T. studying had kicked in full force, Hermione had spent most evenings and weekends in the bowels of the castle. Occasionally they had even managed to get some actual work done. And time outside the dungeons had proved just as interesting.

The curly-haired witch stretched luxuriously under the covers and smiled as memories flashed through her mind, memories of stolen kisses and hushed arguments and being whisked into shadowy niches at random moments of the day just because the Potions Master had missed the smell of her hair, though he had never actually admitted to that motive.

They had surpassed quite a few relationship milestones, too. Christmas had been a big one. The Head Girl had internally panicked about what was to be her and Severus' first major holiday together. Not only did she have to decide on an appropriate gift for the cantankerous wizard but there was also the matter of where and how she was going to spend the winter break.

By the last night of the semester, Hermione still hadn't decided what to do and had headed down to the dungeons after dinner to discuss the issue with Snape. Halfway down the corridor between the Entrance Hall and his office, however, she ran into a vaguely familiar Ravenclaw heading in the opposite direction. With a charming smile, he had stopped her and asked about her plans for Christmas.

After briefly explaining that she wasn't quite sure what she would be doing yet, the boy mentioned that he had read somewhere that her family lived in Hampstead. He was Muggle-born as well and his parents' home happened to be less than twenty kilometers from her own. He then asked if she'd like to meet up during the break and go ice skating with him or something equally as Muggle and festive.

Before she was able to politely decline, the boy in front of her had froze, going suddenly rigid, and toppled over backwards. Instantly on guard, the war-wizened witch whipped her wand out and squinted through the shadows for the source of the jinx. No one had been around. Just as she was about to bend over the immobile Ravenclaw and perform the counter-jinx, a tall, dark form had silently emerged from a corridor only a few paces ahead of her.

"Did you do this?" she asked in shock, gesturing towards the boy on the ground.

Black eyes flashing dangerously, Severus stalked over the petrified lump without looking at it, took her by the arm and gruffly pulled her into an unused classroom to her right. The dark chamber was full of cobwebs and stacked desks. Without uttering a single word, the wizard picked her up at the waist and sat her on top of the nearest dusty table. He pushed her denim-clad knees apart to stand directly between her parted legs, their chests pressed together, and devoured her mouth with an intensity that she hadn't experienced since the dingy backroom at the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione's brain buzzed as the wizard snogged her roughly, his hands fisted into her hair. Though his hostile treatment of the innocent wizard lying in the hallway galled her, she was far from the mind frame necessary to chastise his jealous actions at that particular moment.

With a gasp of much-needed oxygen, the Potion Master pulled back from her bruised mouth and peered into her eyes, so close that she could see the individual variants of black in his dark orbs. She blinked several times to clear away the fog of passion.

"You are _my_ witch," he growled, his tone at once menacing and seductive.

Hermione's heart sputtered and then soared at those words. After their discussions about his past, she knew that his jealous streak bothered him. He managed to keep it at bay most of the time, but just as it had at the Leaky Cauldron, his possessiveness positively exhilarated her. Still, she didn't want him to get the wrong impression. She hadn't been entertaining the slightest notion of going anywhere with the Ravenclaw whose name she couldn't even recall.

"I wasn't going to tell him yes," she squeaked, nodding weakly towards the door, her body thrumming as a searing heat continued to course through her veins. She took a steadying breath, still peering into his eyes. "I have no interest in anyone but you, Severus. Merlin knows you're enough work for anyone."

He kissed her again at that declaration, fiercely but briefly, before pulling back and giving her a seemingly meaningful look. He then turned and quickly stalked out of the room without another word. Startled by his abrupt departure, it was a minute before Hermione had the mental clarity to follow after the wizard. She had still needed to talk with him about plans for Christmas break. When she reached the hall, however, the Ravenclaw boy was gone and Snape was nowhere to be seen.

After a lot of debate that evening, she had decided to spend most of her vacation at Hogwarts, which had given her ample time to booby-trap the Head of Slytherin House's office and study with mistletoe and then repeatedly trap him beneath it. Christmas Eve day had found her at the Burrow with Harry and all the Weasleys. She had spent Christmas Eve night and Christmas morning with her parents and had made sure to be back to school in time to attend the very intimate holiday feast with the castle's handful of other inhabitants. She and Severus had also gone to Malfoy Manor together to share Boxing Day with Draco and Lucius. The older blond had been fresh from his extended Parisian vacation and thrilled to have guests for the day.

The exchange of Christmas gifts had also been successful, despite her stress over the matter. It had driven her batty trying to determine what sort of present would be appropriate to give Snape. She had wanted something personal but not too personal because they had been courting for less than two months at that point. After a fruitless and frustrating search, she had come across a set of incredibly handsome, hand-blown glass bottles in a Muggle antique shop upon which she placed multiple interwoven charms to render the flasks unbreakable, impervious to contamination, theft-proof, and warded specifically to the Potions Master's magical signature. She had figured that he could use them for his most prized ingredients or elixirs.

It turned out that she had chosen correctly. He seemed to really appreciate the bottles and the effort that she had put into them. Likewise, she adored the set of monogrammed potion utensils that he had given her, as well as the gorgeously-bound first edition of _Moste Potent Potions_ — the same text that she had used to brew Polyjuice in her second year. For being unaccustomed to gift giving, he had proved quite good at it.

Hermione stretched again and idly considered getting in the shower while she scratched Crookshanks behind the ears. She was sure that Harry and Ron had a lot planned for the day, sentimental things to celebrate their last day as magical students, but she was quite enjoying lounging about and lazily reminiscing. For the first time ever, she could actually look back at a year at Hogwarts and not be repulsed by the amount of danger that her and her friends had unknowingly been in. She sat up, fluffed her pillows, and settled back amongst them, giving in to the surreal feeling of peaceful nostalgia.

After winter break, the months had seemed to fly by. The taciturn wizard had unsurprisingly and adamantly refused to acknowledge St. Valentine's Day. He hadn't even allowed her to enter his private study the entire week prior, apparently out of fear that she would act in some distastefully juvenile fashion. Her agitation with him over such a silly suspicion, however, had been instantly soothed when she awoke that morning to find a single long-stemmed rose lying across her desk.

It was after the magically floating cupids and paper hearts had been cleared out of the castle and Snape had permitted her to be alone with him again that Hermione began to consider taking their relationship to the next level. Severus always stopped their snogging sessions before things got too heated and was careful not to allow the atmosphere to ever become too intimate any time they were together. She had never even seen his bedchamber. She hadn't minded at first, being far from ready to lose her virginity, but after five months of continual, torturous foreplay, her opinion had evolved at an alarming rate.

The problem was, without coming out and directly telling him that she fancied a shag like she had once joked with Draco, she hadn't a clue how to actually initiate such a thing, especially when it was obvious that he was doing everything within his power not to allow her the chance. She had asked Ginny for advice on means of seduction and had even borrowed some of Lavender and Parvati's insipid watch magazines but nothing she tried worked.

Finally after weeks of utter frustration on her part, things came to a boiling point. When he abruptly ended a lovely little interlude in front of the fire by telling her that she needed to go to bed, she had awkwardly rubbed her breasts against him and told him to lead the way. That rather less than subtle tactic failed as well. He had sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose and finally leveled with her. In his customary classroom voice, he had explained that though he cared for her and was increasingly attracted to her, under no circumstances would they be consummating their relationship until after she had graduated.

They had their biggest row to date following that declaration. They had squabbled plenty of times before and after — they disagreed on a near-daily basis about some thing or another — but never with the intensity that that particular argument reached. Hermione found it completely unfair and highly sexist that he believed that a decision of that magnitude was solely his to make. She was of age, in both the magical _and_ the Muggle world, and made up fifty percent of their relationship for Merlin's sake! They screamed at each other until three in the morning, debating the legitimacy of his right to dictate the parameters of their courtship. She had refused to talk to him for over a week afterwards, even to the point of costing the Gryffindor hourglass five rubies for not answering a direct question in class. Despite everything, though, she had yet to break his resolve. It was the one point that she didn't seem capable of changing his mind about.

Smirking, Hermione finally pushed herself out of bed and headed to her private shower. She might have been unsuccessful at persuasion and seduction, but as of midnight tonight, the wizard's ridiculous stipulation would be null and void. He would no longer be able to deny her advances and they would no longer be bending the non-existent laws of propriety governing relations between students and professors. With an obvious pink hue of excitement on her cheeks, she stripped out of her pajamas and turned on the taps.

As she stepped beneath the cascade of hot water, her mind flashed back to what had to be her absolute favorite memory of the past few months. It was the daydream that she visited the most often, even though she had never been prone to such wasteful activities before. The incident in question had happened near the end of April. Hermione had been alone in the Head of Slytherin's office, studying at the immense desk in the middle of the room. It was probably one of the quietest places in the whole castle and had proved the perfect place to work on her N.E.W.T. revision in solitude. Severus had began to allow her use of the space after she had gone on an hour-long tirade about how noisy and crowded the library always became near exam time. Occasionally he sat in the corner and read or graded essays while she studied, but more often than not he left her in peace.

On that particular spring day, however, as Hermione was elbows deep in Rune translations, the Potions Master barged into the room in an obvious tirade, slamming the heavy door loudly behind him. She glanced up to see him fuming mad, his face flushed with anger and his eyes sparkling maliciously. His sudden appearance and obviously rankled demeanor didn't shock her. It was a rare day that Severus Snape wasn't furious about something and he had often sought her out as a sounding board since they had begun seeing one another.

"What happened?" she asked patiently while surreptitiously marking her place in the massive tome on the desk in front of her.

He sneered — actually _sneered_ — at her, which did surprise her, but didn't answer. Instead he barked at her to cast a Patronus.

"What?" she asked in confusion. "Why?"

"Just do it," he seethed in his trademarked cold and menacing tone.

She scowled at him but flicked her wand and said the necessary incantation to produce her customary otter Patronus. It unfurled from the tip of her wand to swim lazily a foot above the littered surface of the desk as its caster raised a curious brow.

Snape's sneer deepened dramatically as he eyed the silvery creature. He then cast the spell himself but instead of the raven that Hermione had encountered months ago, a second, somehow surlier, otter appeared. It edged towards hers and they cautiously inspected each other. Hermione watched the glowing shapes for a moment before looking up at Severus in utter shock.

His expression didn't change as the two sleek mammals began to swim around each other in tentative, elongated circles above the desk. Her shock, however, was rapidly morphing into one of gleeful comprehension. There were only a small handful of reasons that one's Patronus could or would change forms. She had studied all that she could find on the protective magic when Harry had first begun teaching her and the other D.A. members the spell theory in their fifth year. A Patronus' form was deeply tied to the personality of its caster. Only profoundly altering events or cataclysmic emotional changes to a person could elicit an alteration in the spell's manifestation.

Hermione's smile widened further as she stood, walked around the table, and wrapped herself tightly around the stock-still wizard, burying her face into his chest. She knew exactly what the appearance of this second otter meant, even if his intense expression said otherwise. She pulled back slightly and peered up at him, unshed tears in her chocolate eyes. "I love you too, Severus."

At that declaration, the two otters, which had begun to frolic together in the most adorable way, both glowed brighter and the wizard wrapped his arms around the petite little witch. Hermione hadn't been able to get a straight answer out of Snape as to why he had been trying to cast a Patronus in the first place or why he had been so livid about the change. Despite their discussion of Lily Evans, he had never told her that his youth had been marked by several embarrassing protective avatars.

To date Severus hadn't uttered the _L word_ a single time even though Hermione had made it a mission of sorts to trick it out of him. She didn't question the depth of his feelings, though. He tended to show her how he felt instead of spouting off about it. The evening before her first day of N.E.W.T.s, for instance, she had returned to her rooms after dinner to find a small stuffed otter resting on her pillows — an uncharacteristically maudlin token of his affection as well as an unspoken reminder of his support during her upcoming task. She had tucked the silly little toy into her book sack before every exam and it was now Crookshanks' favorite cuddle buddy and one of her most prized possessions.

Finishing her shower and getting dressed for the day, Hermione made her way down to the crowded Gryffindor common room. Judging by the amount of kids crammed into the circular chamber, she must have missed breakfast completely. She scanned the couches and spotted Harry and Ron sitting with the other seventh-year boys by the unlit fireplace. While the younger students filling the room appeared visibly excited, the mood amongst the graduating class was notably less jubilant as she approached them. Tomorrow they would be leaving Hogwarts, not just for summer vacation but to begin their adult wizarding lives. After surviving the past seven event-filled years and especially the most recent war, the prospect of leaving the castle for good was bloody daunting.

The boys all turned with wan smiles when they noticed her arrival. Ron held out a muffin and a banana and Harry passed her a tall glass of pumpkin juice.

"Figured you'd be peckish since you slept through breakfast," the redhead explained. "We were gonna have Ginny wake you but she was already gone by the time we got up." He made a face that led Hermione to the conclusion that the youngest of the Weasley clan had gone off early to spend time with her Slytherin boyfriend.

"Eat up," Harry said hastily in an obvious attempt to change the subject. "Thought we'd go down and see Hagrid for a bit. Then we're gonna meet back up with this lot for a last game of Quidditch." He gestured to Dean and Seamus who grinned.

The Head Girl thanked them and ate quickly as the wizards finalized their plans for the afternoon. When she was finished, the three best friends made their way out of the castle and across the school grounds to Hagrid's hut — a trip that they had made what felt like a million times together. She linked arms with Harry and Ron as they started down the sloping landscape, slowing their pace slightly and enjoying the moment. It was funny how even something as commonplace as visiting the half-giant could suddenly feel nostalgic.

Hagrid had obviously been expecting them. He opened his enormous door before they had even knocked and had the table set with tea cups and a plate stacked high with his infamous rock cakes. They took their usual seats around the large wooden table and filled their mugs from the kettle fresh off the fire. Following the tone of the morning, they reminisced for a while about all the adventures that they had shared with the gamekeeper.

After refilling everyone's cups, Hagrid asked the boys about their post-Hogwarts plans. Harry had unsurprisingly been accepted into the Ministry's Auror training program. His acceptance was officially contingent on his forthcoming N.E.W.T. scores but the Boy-Who-Lived was an obvious shoe-in. The program was scheduled to begin in a few weeks' time and Harry was both excited and nervous. Hermione knew that he was going to make a great Auror — his entire life had been preparing him for the role — but a small part of her thought that defeating Voldemort should've earned the boy a little safer career than catching more dark wizards. Harry, however, had never wanted to be anything other than an Auror. It was in his blood.

"And wha' 'bout you, Ron?" Hagrid asked after the bespectacled wizard had finished describing the intricacies of the training course. "Gon' be an Auror too?"

"Can't," Ron replied through a mouthful of rock cake. He swallowed hastily, surreptitiously ran his tongue over his teeth to ensure that they were all still intact, and then said, "I didn't take the required N.E.W.T.s. I've got an interview for an assistant coaching job with Puddlemere United next week. Oliver Wood put in a good word for me. I think I'd like to be a defense coach." He shrugged noncommittally.

Hermione smiled at the slightly blushing freckle-faced boy. This was a big move for him — perhaps even bigger than Harry's. For the first time since he was eleven, Ron would be stepping out of his best friend's shadow and walking a path completely his own. She knew that he had been really bummed at the beginning of the year when Snape hadn't let him take N.E.W.T. level Potions because it had meant that he wouldn't be able to apply for an Auror position like Harry, but after an extended period of sulking he had decided to follow his Quidditch passions instead. He wasn't necessarily talented enough to play for a professional team but the boy was a strategy whiz. He had developed a few choice contacts and had brokered several interviews for coaching internships. If all else failed, his father and brother would be able to get him on somewhere within the Ministry.

The boys had also decided to live together at Harry's house on Grimmauld Place as it was centrally located and free. Since Sirius' death two years previous, Harry had managed to come to terms with the loss of his godfather. The Animagus' house now more a place of fond memories than of missed opportunities. The last time they had visited there had still been some cleaning and renovating to be done but Mrs. Weasley had been working at the house since learning of the idea at Christmas and any remaining alterations would be easily enough accomplished with magic. Dobby had even agreed — practically begged, actually — to work at the old Black family manor because Kreacher seemed happier to stay at Hogwarts. Hermione had had plans to move in with them as well until her apprenticeship had been offered. She still had an open invitation to stay whenever she wanted or, as Ron had put it, whenever she got sick of the 'ol' greasy git'.

"And Hermione will be 'ere, won't cha, Hermione? Wit' Snape curin' half of St. Mungo's," Hagrid said, beaming at her proudly. "How many have they cured wit' tha' potion of yers?"

"Fifty-seven at last count," she replied with a smile. The Cruciatus Vomica Domintor potion had proved wildly successful. St. Mungo's had turned some people away because, like Neville's parents, their afflictions hadn't met the requirements, but everyone that had been approved had been miraculously healed.

"Tha's amazin', tha' is." Hagrid cuffed her on the shoulder, nearly unseating her from her chair. "And you'll get ter visit wit' me after this lot has left an' all."

"For the next two years at least," she confirmed happily. "Professor Snape said that we'll be doing a bit of traveling this summer, to collect ingredients and the like, but most of the time I'll be here. And Neville's staying too. Professor Sprout officially offered him an apprenticeship last week."

"About that, Hagrid," Harry interjected. "I want you to keep an eye on Hermione for us. Make sure she's getting out of the dungeons and the library occasionally and make sure Snape doesn't work her to death."

Hagrid chuckled in his booming way as the Head Girl glared at her scar-headed best friend. "You do realize that I'm a fully capable witch, don't you? I can fend for myself."

"I know you can, Hermione," Harry said, not the least bit chastened, "but you do have a tendency to bury yourself in work and forget to do anything else."

"Like eat or sleep or, you know, _breathe_ ," Ron added, not untruthfully.

The three wizards laughed and Hermione felt her cheeks redden. Her reputation always preceded her. "I won't have school work or exams to worry about anymore so my apprenticeship should operate more like a nine to five research job." Fang got up from his nest of blankets near the hearth to lay his heavy head on her knee. She scratched him behind the ears before adding, "Now that N.E.W.T.s are over I can really focus on the potion for the Longbottoms. I'm supposed to meet with Healers next week to discuss their case."

True to her word, once she and Severus completed the first batches of Vomica Domintor for the wizarding hospital, made the medical brewers a set of extremely precise and detailed instructions, and collaborated on the first of what turned out to be several academic journal essays, Hermione had started research on how to alter the potion to be effective on brain trauma sustained from prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. It had honestly proven to be a far more daunting task than she had initially thought it would be. And then, just as she had scratched the surface, she had been forced to put the whole project on the back burner in order to concentrate her full efforts on studying for her then rapidly-approaching exams. Now that school was complete, though, she could refocus whole-heartedly on the minute progress that she had previously made. She had lined up a meeting with the Longbottoms' Head Healer and had already begun looking into Muggle neurology and neuroscience. She was hoping that being Muggle-born and being able to value both magical and Muggle techniques would work in her favor.

The trio chatted with Hagrid awhile longer before walking a short distance into the Forbidden Forest with him to visit briefly with Witherwings in the large Hippogriff paddock that was tucked away under the expansive canopy of trees. When they took their leave of the half-giant, he sobbed loudly and crushed each of them in hugs that lifted them right off their feet, wailing about it being the end of an era. While Harry and Ron said their goodbyes, Hermione wordlessly syphoned the enormous wizard's tears from her damp robes. She promised to come down for tea later in the week.

After leaving Hagrid's hut, the boys made a beeline for the Quidditch pitch and the frizzy-haired witch followed after them for lack of any more concrete plans. Hermione sat up in the stands with Luna and Neville and a dozen or so other spectators as witches and wizards from all four houses converged on the field. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff partnered together against Ravenclaw and Slytherin and both teams sporadically changed out players so that everyone who wanted to play got air time.

The two mixed teams were actually well-matched and the exhilarating game lasted a fair part of the afternoon, culminating in Ginny catching the Golden Snitch after swapping out positions with Harry, who hardly ever got to play Chaser. The Gryffindor/Hufflepuff team won but only by a margin of ten points. As the players touched down, members from all four of the houses shook hands with jubilant smiles on their faces. It was perhaps one of the oddest things that Hermione had ever witnessed on the Quidditch pitch, which was saying quite a lot since it had been the scene of so many bizarre events over the years. She couldn't help but think that inter-house scrimmages such as this one should take place more often.

Harry and Ron decided to go back up to the school after the game to visit with Remus before the Leaving Feast. Hermione let them go without her, thinking that perhaps the former werewolf would appreciate a chance speak to the boys alone for a while. She would have the entire summer, the next three summers in fact, to talk with Lupin whenever she wanted. Harry and Ron, however, were on the cusp of becoming men in the adult magical world beyond the safety of the castle's walls, an occasion that seemed to beg for sage advice.

After they took their leave, she strode off in the direction of the lake. The afternoon was far too beautiful and mild to waste inside. On her way she passed several groups of students who obviously had similar ideas. As she approached her favorite stretch of shore, she spotted Ginny and Draco settling down in the soft grass a few hundred yards away. The blond reclined back against the trunk of the large tree they sat beneath and the younger witch curled up between his bent knees. They seemed to be in the midst of a lively conversation. She paused to watch them for a moment.

The rather unlikely pair had flourished as a couple over the past several months. No one would've guessed beforehand but the two were actually quite good for each other. Ginny was able to match wit and sarcasm with the pureblood wizard in a way that no other girl had previously done, holding his sole attention. And Draco had proved to be the perfect combination of doting arm-candy and unparalleled challenge for the red-haired witch.

Like Hermione had once suspected, neither of them had given a flying Hippogriff about other people's opinions of their relationship. Within a week of their first kiss, it had been common knowledge that the Prince of Slytherin and the Princess of Gryffindor were an item. The boys had thrown a fit, of course — Ron more so than Harry, who had just seemed let down by the news, like he covertly believed that he had missed an important opportunity — but they had gotten over the worst of the shock by the time winter break had begun. Ginny had endured quite a bit of teasing from her other brothers but had managed to put a definitive end to it all with a few well-aimed Bat-Bogey Hexes. Draco had even braved the displeasure of the Malfoy patriarch by telling his father of his infatuation at Christmas. After the initial astonishment, Lucius had taken the news well, cheerfully even, much to the surprise of his son but not to the Muggle-born who had experienced firsthand how much the former Death Eater had changed.

After a moment of watching the pair, the blond looked up to see the Head Girl standing near the water's edge not far from where they sat. He whistled and beckoned her over as Ginny turned to see who he was gesturing to.

"Hermione!" the redhead cried enthusiastically, still riding the post-Quidditch wave of euphoria. "Come sit with us!"

Hermione smiled and walked over to their little patch of shade. "I didn't want to intrude. Last day at Hogwarts together and all."

"Sit, Granger," Draco said. "We're discussing the match, not dry humping in the rose bushes."

Ginny snorted and elbowed her boyfriend playfully. "Maybe later, though."

Hermione laughed and lowered herself into the grass, folding her legs into a pretzel. She had spent a lot of time with Ginny and Draco this year and they rarely made her feel like a third wheel and only occasionally snogged in her presence. The best part about being in their company was that she didn't have to pretend that she wasn't madly in love with the great bat of the dungeons as she did with nearly everyone else she knew. They let her gush or complain to her heart's content, knowing that she didn't have any other outlet for such things, and they gave her feedback and advice, though it was almost always heavily laden with sarcasm or incredulity.

She listened to the pair resume their play by play dissection of the pickup Quidditch game for a few minutes before her mind drifted from the conversation. She had always enjoyed watching matches and cheering for Gryffindor but beyond that her interest petered out. Even when she was seeing Viktor, an internationally famous player, she hadn't had any desire to discuss the intricacies of the sport ad nauseam. She had once explained her disinterest to the boys by comparing it to their aversion of her habit of over-analyzing test questions after an exam.

Just last night they had yelled at her for pestering them about their performances on the N.E.W.T. practicals. They had never understood or appreciated her obsession. During the months preceding the exams, Hermione had spent an exorbitant amount of time and energy coaching Harry and Ron. Half of the time they had actively participated and really tried to memorize all the information that she had organized for them, recognizing that their scores would dictate their future success. The rest of the time, it had been like beating her head against one of the castle's many stone walls.

She had also spent a lot of time studying with the Head Boy, which had been far less annoying. Having the same class schedule, predilection for academic success, and future aspirations, it was a natural fit for them to work together. It had been refreshing to study with Draco as he didn't get nearly as stressed as she did and was able to pull her back into focus when she got carried away. It had to be something in his arrogant nature — he always assumed the best when it came to tests and exams while she inevitably assumed the worst. And, true to form, despite the Slytherin's assured demeanor, she still drove herself past exhaustion and nearly to the point of breakdown in preparation.

Being already well into an apprenticeship, which was the main point of getting good N.E.W.T. scores, didn't seem to matter. She still went half mad trying to achieve perfect marks. Severus had been especially concerned about her continual and ever-increasing state of distress in the last few weeks before the exams. He had tried everything to get her to calm down — threats, coddling, sedatives, even recounting what he could remember of his own examinations over and over at her behest — and none of it had worked. In fact, at one point, though she never knew it, he had seriously contemplated abandoning his self-imposed 'no sex' rule just to take the girl's mind off of her obsessive revisions.

She had survived though. They all had. Harry and Ron each had their career choices mapped out. She would become a Potions Mistress even if her results came back with seven straight Ts. And Draco had more than likely scored well enough to secure a position at the Ivy League Wizarding University that he had set his sights on. Instead of an apprenticeship, the pureblood had decided to take a different route to achieve the same end — an ambition that Lucius, after a lengthy, heartfelt discussion between the two, had endorsed. Ginny was the lucky one — she still had another year before she had to worry about becoming a grownup.

Eventually the Quidditch discussion wound down. Hermione, whose attention was definitely elsewhere, didn't even notice that Draco and Ginny had stopped talking until the blond had called her name for the third time.

"Thinking about tonight, Granger?" he asked with a smirk once her glazed-over eyes had blinked back into focus. "I'm assuming that we won't be seeing you at the party."

An elaborate last hoorah, to take place in the castle's Room of Requirement, had been in the works for the last two weeks. The entire graduating class was going to be there, along with any younger students who had been lucky enough to secure an invite or proved crafty enough to gate-crash. An en masse breaking of curfew and likely a dozen other school rules in the one place where they couldn't be caught. It was quickly becoming a thing of legend even though it wouldn't be starting until later that evening. One last rebellious rite of passage before they all boarded the Hogwarts Express the next morning for the final time.

"What? Why not?" Ginny asked, surprised.

"Because my sanctimonious godfather's time limit expires tonight," Draco replied, his lips still curled in a sarcastic expression. "So I assume that Granger will be preoccupied most of the evening. Or perhaps only a few minutes since he's old and I'm guessing it's been a while."

Ginny giggled and Hermione felt her cheeks redden despite her scowl. These two were the only people in existence who knew the sordid details of her non-existent sex life and they rarely let her forget it. "Shut up. He's not old and I'm sure his stamina is just fine. I'm just not planning on testing it tonight."

Draco's brow rose in question. "What about the 'shagging like bunnies'?"

"I'm going to the party instead," she replied, not quite meeting the wizard's pale, curious eyes.

"You've been trying to get into that man's robes for months, Hermione. You've literally been counting down the days," Ginny said, appraising her friend with a shrewd expression. "He's finally going to let you and you're skiving? Why?"

It was true, the Muggle-born had been thinking long and hard about her graduation night ever since Snape had imposed his ridiculous bedroom restrictions. She had planned and fantasized and plotted for months. The closer the date had approached, the more impatient she had become. She was nervous as well, of course — she'd be crazy not to be — but her excitement far eclipsed any anxiety.

As eagerly as she had been anticipating finally consummating her and Severus' relationship, however, there was something to be said for _not_ abiding by his preposterous schedule. The older Slytherin had been denying her for months and now she was just supposed to go running, willing and ready, the moment he deemed it acceptable? Something about that idea didn't sit right with her. For the past few days, she had been contemplating means of taking back the reigns a bit, of tipping the scales of power back into her favor or at least equaling them out.

"It's an illicit party on my last night as a Hogwarts student," Hermione replied slightly evasively and still not making eye contact. "I don't want miss it."

"Bullshit," Draco said automatically, finally getting the Head Girl to look at him. "That's utter rubbish and you know it, Granger."

A sly grin overtook her features and she tipped her head in acknowledgement. "Fine. I've been thinking that it's high time he's given a dose of his own snarky, antiquated medicine."

"Bloody brilliant," Ginny replied, smirking approvingly as her boyfriend's haughty laughter reverberated off the placid lake. A giant tentacle rose above the water in the distance and appeared to wave lazily at the sound before slowly slipping beneath the surface again.

"That," the blond gasped as he caught his breath. "That right there is why we've become friends, Granger."

The witch's grin bloomed across her face even as the tiniest twinge of guilt hit her stomach, knowing that Severus wouldn't be so impressed. She brushed this thought away and the unusual trio wiled away the last hour of sunlight in the soft grass, talking about the frivolous and inconsequential and thoroughly enjoying themselves.

As they made to get up, dusting sand and stray blades of grass from their robes, Hermione was struck by the notion that this group of friends had become nearly as important to her as the famed Golden Trio. No one would ever eclipse Harry and Ron as her very best friends - they shared an incomparable bond forged by years of laughter and tears, adventure and chaos. But Ginny and Draco, both as a couple and separately, had become very dear to her in their own unique way. She loved them both and found that she would miss them almost as much as the boys when they left the following day, knowing that they'd probably never be here like this again. She smiled when the pratty pureblood offered his free arm to her and the three of them, linked together, returned to the castle.

* * *

The End of the Year dinner was the best, most elaborate feastthat Hermione could recall ever having at Hogwarts. It was as if Dumbledore and the rest of the staff had admitted to themselves that the graduating class — the one that had been through so much in their seven years, having seen both the resurrection and demise of Voldemort — had been their all-time favorite class and had decided to pull out all the stops.

Each course of the grandiose meal was increasingly scrumptious and the hall was lavishly adorned in red and gold. Gryffindor had won the House Cup for the seventh straight year, mostly due to the fact that they had also narrowly won the Quidditch Cup. The team had beat out Ravenclaw by only a slim margin and Slytherin had come in a close third, which was pretty impressive considering that nearly the entire team had been composed of young, inexperienced players this year because so many Slytherins hadn't returned to the school after the war. Even Harry had begrudgingly admitted that Malfoy had done a good job coaching to get them as far as they had come given the odds.

The chatter around the Great Hall was lively and animated through dinner. The younger students were discussing plans for summer adventures and most of the upperclassmen were talking about the big party to come later that evening. Hermione smiled distractedly as the boys stage-whispered about the Butterbeer and Firewhiskey that they had smuggled in for the occasion with help from Fred and George. Her gaze drifted up to the head table. All these months later and the sight of Severus Snape's dark eyes intensely focused on her still elicited butterflies in her stomach. She winked covertly at him, something that she had become rather talented at, and though his expression didn't change, she could practically feel the heat from his gaze spike. It seemed to melt her insides. She swallowed thickly and looked away.

Once both the dinner and dessert dishes had magically disappeared, the Headmaster stood from his chair and a hush immediately fell over the large chamber. "I hope you all enjoyed that delicious feast." He smiled warmly around the room, his blue eyes twinkling merrily behind his half-moon spectacles. "For some of you, it was the last Hogwarts feast that you will ever partake in as a student." This elicited a somewhat mournful murmur from the crowd; Ron's perhaps loudest of all.

"To the graduating seventh-years, tomorrow marks your first steps into the adult wizarding world. You have seen many things during your time at Hogwarts, rather more than perhaps any class in recent history." Dumbledore's venerable gaze was drawn briefly to the head of the Gryffindor table where it lingered longest upon Harry. "I hope that in your time here, we were able to instill a solid foundation of magical education that will aid you in the days to come. Please remember that learning never ends. Whether you are graduating today or as old as I, there are always new things to learn and adventures to be had."

Hermione exchanged a grin with the boys. While she was eager for new knowledge, she knew that her best friends were anticipating their next big adventures. It had been that way since their very first year together.

"I'm excited to announce that two of our graduating class will be remaining with us for a while longer," the elderly wizard continued. "Miss Hermione Granger and Mister Neville Longbottom have both accepted apprenticeships within these hallowed halls, something that we have not had an opportunity to offer in a very long time. These two pupils have already exhibited impressive skill in their chosen fields and I am sure that they will benefit immensely from Professor Snape and Professor Sprout's expertise as well as the many other _perks_ of their new positions." There was a weird emphasis on the word 'perks' and the Headmaster's twinkly gaze fell on Hermione as he raised his goblet in a toast. "To Mister Longbottom and Miss Granger!"

A scattering of applause and calls of congratulations broke out and yet Albus Dumbledore's eyes remained fixed upon Hermione's. Not for the first time, she got the distinct impression that the wizened wizard knew more than he was letting on. Over the past few months there had been several instances that seemed to suggest that the Headmaster might be as omniscient as the rumors had always implied.

She felt her cheeks redden as the wizard gave her a small smile and let his gaze return to the hall at large. She couldn't bring herself to look at Severus again, not when she knew that he'd be wearing that arrogant smirk of his - the one that had first appeared during the weeks of erroneous detentions that she had endured. He seemed to sport it whenever he knew that he had her right where he wanted her — regardless whether it was in class, during an argument, or amidst a more intimate situation. It drove her completely mad.

"Whether this is your last night as a Hogwarts student or merely the end of your first year with us," Dumbledore said, not quite finished with his speech, "know that this castle and its staff will always be here if you ever have need of us. Refuge shall always be found on these grounds."

The Headmaster smiled serenely at the sea of upturned faces, taking special note of those belonging to the outgoing class. He clapped his hands together once then spread his arms wide. "And now, it's nearly time for your professors and I to retire for the evening. I believe that we are likely to suffer from some type of group hearing loss until the morning but I would not worry yourselves about our temporary malady. Have a good night!" With that he took his seat again amongst the outbreak of snickers, giggles, and confused murmuring that followed.

Hermione finally looked towards Snape's chair only to find it empty. The stealthy wizard had slipped out sometime during or immediately following Dumbledore's speech. She wondered what his hurry was. They hadn't made any specific plans for the evening but he did have a certain penchant for arranging surprises. She wanted to make a point by not going to the dungeons tonight but she didn't want to hurt his feelings in the process or miss out on something romantic.

She sighed, feeling torn, when Ginny and the boys stood up from the table. With a last contemplative look towards the emptying staff table, she followed their lead out of the Great Hall and back to Gryffindor Tower. She would worry about Severus and his possibly wounded ego tomorrow, tonight she was going to act like a kid one last time and have a little fun with her friends. She just hoped that he wouldn't be too upset or disappointed.

* * *

The Room of Requirement had outdone itself for the party. When Harry, Ron, and Hermione arrived a little after nine to lend assistance with setting up, they found the magical chamber already a buzz with music and laughter. Ginny, Neville, and Luna, who had all become well-acquainted with the special parameters of the place during the days of Dumbledore's Army, had taken the lead in requesting its use for the night. The room had morphed into roughly the size of the Great Hall with a dance floor in the middle, tons of comfy seating, and a disproportionately large number of shadowy nooks and crannies for amorous couples to disappear into, a feature that had to have been Ginny's doing.

Several long tables had been conjured along one wall to hold all of the snacks that some of the Hufflepuffs had managed to acquire from the kitchens and the vast amount of alcoholic beverages that Harry and Ron had contributed. The Ravenclaws had somehow transfigured a small wireless into a rather impressive sound system and the Slytherins, wealthy as most of them were, had brought their enormous collection of music. The Room of Requirement had also provided party atmosphere lighting, including magical orbs that floated above the dance floor and pulsed in different colors in tune with the wizarding band playing through the speakers suspended overhead. The overall effect of the chamber was quite astounding and Hermione didn't think that she would ever tire of the castle's magical abilities.

Once inside, the boys made a beeline towards the drink table and Hermione wandered her way over to where Draco and Blaise stood watching Ginny and Luna magically hanging streamers in all four House colors over a large selection of bean bag chairs in one of the corners.

"Hi guys," she said, coming to a stand next to the blond pureblood. "The place looks amazing."

He turned with an oddly triumphant grin before calling, "You owe me ten galleons, Red," over his shoulder.

"Dammit, Hermione!" Ginny swore, not taking her eyes off her task.

The Head Girl scowled at Draco since the younger witch wouldn't be able to see the expression. "You two made a bet on me?" she demanded. "What were the terms?"

He looked at her pointedly, a slight arch to his brow. "I think that's rather obvious, Granger. My exquisite yet foolish girlfriend was convinced that you would change your mind and be otherwise engaged tonight." His lips curled into a smirk. "I, however, oh-so-correctly assumed that your Gryffindor bravery would fail you."

Hermione punched the boy on the arm, hard enough to make him wince. "I did not chicken out, Malfoy. I wanted to make a point and I'm making it."

"What in the name of Salazar Slytherin are you two on about?" Blaise asked, looking at the pair of them like they had been Confunded without him noticing.

"Oh nothing," the Muggle-born replied. "My friends are just utter prats."

"Oy," Ron called indignantly, walking up behind her with Harry at his side. "What the hell did we do?"

"Not you." Hermione huffed and took the bottle of Butterbeer that Harry held out to her. "Never mind." There was no way she could explain the cryptic discussion or her last comment without the mention of sex or Snape or a topic as equally explosive.

Draco snickered at the predicament that she had inadvertently walked into and if Ginny wasn't in love with the bastard, Hermione would've hexed him. She took a mutinous swig of her drink and went to help the girls with the decorations. The entire male population was suddenly on her last nerve.

By eleven, the grad party was in full swing. All the seventh-years were there, even the more pedantic Ravenclaws. At least half of the sixth-years had shown up, along with a few random younger kids, like Dennis Creevey who had snuck in with his brother Colin. The two little Gryffindors were wandering amongst the crowd taking pictures of the various degrees of drunkenness on display. The Weird Sisters were belting out of the magical speakers floating through the chamber and the dance floor was packed. Hermione was perched on an ottoman, watching in amusement as Ron gyrated erratically in a small group consisting of Luna, Hannah Abbott, Ernie Macmillan, and Justin Finch-Fletchley. The redhead had already had far too much Firewhiskey and had obviously forgotten that he never cared much for dancing.

Harry sunk down on the pouffe beside her, flush-faced and slightly sweaty. He had just extracted himself from Romilda Vane and a couple of her friends who hadn't wanted to let him leave the parquet floor. He nudged her playfully with his shoulder. "Why aren't you dancing?"

"I was, with Dean and Neville," she said, pointing at the two wizards. Dean was trying to teach Neville how to Muggle breakdance and it wasn't going so well. She winced as the clumsy Herbology apprentice fell on his backside for the hundredth time. "I don't think that I've imbibed nearly enough alcohol to keep up. Just needed a breather."

Harry nodded as Dean effortlessly demonstrated the move that he had been trying to teach, gracefully spinning his lanky frame on the palm of one hand. "Great party though, isn't it? Good way to go out."

Hermione agreed. Despite her earlier indecision, the evening had been a lot of fun so far and she was glad that she had come. Snape's scowling visage suddenly flashed through her mind's eye. He would loathe this entire ordeal and would surely find a way to retroactively deduct House points. With a mental shake, she brushed away the thought of the wizard.

"Where's Ginny?" Harry asked, scanning the crowd. "Haven't seen her in a while."

"Off snogging Draco somewhere, I'd imagine," she replied with a smirk. She had seen the two sneak off into one of the shadowy corners about an hour ago and had yet to see them emerge.

"Weird that, isn't it?" the bespectacled boy asked. "They seem to make a good couple though. Seems like Malfoy makes her happy. Gonna be a really odd wedding."

Hermione snorted. "I don't think they're ready to pick out china patterns just yet, Harry."

He laughed. "Yeah, but just think how funny it will be to watch Lucius Malfoy try to mingle with two dozen or so red-haired Weasley relatives."

She grinned at the image and they lapsed into silence amongst the thrum of music. After a few minutes, Harry spoke again but his tone had turned serious. "I'm kinda scared, you know."

"Of what?"

"Leaving tomorrow," he replied soberly. "We're gonna board the train tomorrow for the very last time. We're gonna leave here and we won't be kids anymore."

"You've been fighting Voldemort since you were eleven," she pointed out, turning to look at him fully. His scarred brow was creased with worry lines. She frowned. "You haven't been a kid for a long time."

"But there's always been rules and someone to make my bed and a hot meal three times a day. Tomorrow I'm expected to pay bills and do my own laundry and… floss or something."

Hermione laughed out loud. She had been trying to get the boys to floss for years to no avail. "You're a wizard, Harry. Dobby will make your bed and cook for you and wash your clothes. And you've never flossed a day in your life. I don't expect that you'll suddenly start now."

He grinned but a slight sadness still marred his green eyes. "I'm gonna miss you, Hermione. You've been bossing me around and being the brilliant one for seven years. I never would've made it this far without you. I would've died our first year because I would've drunk the wrong potion under the trapdoor. I would've flunked out of all my classes because it's always been your nagging voice that's gotten me through every single exam." He shook his head. "What are we going to do without you?"

Hermione wrapped her arm around the wizard's shoulder and kissed his cheek. "I love you, Harry James Potter. You've been my best friend since the night you stuck your wand up that mountain troll's nostril. You aren't getting rid of me that easily."

He smiled but before he had a chance to say anything further, Ron stumbled his way over to them. He reached out to grab both of their hands, swaying on the spot. "Hair-rayyyy. Her-my-oh-neeee. Come dance with meeee."

With a shared glance of amused exasperation, they let the inebriated Keeper pull them to the dance floor and into the throng of undulating witches and wizards. And the three of them danced, laughing and clinging together like it might be the last time that they'd ever have the chance to act so silly.

By three a.m., Hermione was one of the only people left who wasn't completely wasted. The party had thinned out considerably as most of the younger kids had gone to bed, the couples had wandered off for more privacy, and the truly intoxicated had been forced to pay the unavoidable price of their overindulgence. Ron was passed out on one of the large bean bags, snoring loudly in tune with the music. Padma and Parvati had had to practically carry Lavender to the loo and were probably still holding back her hair as she vomited. The Creevey brothers were on the dance floor, cameras dangling from their necks, spinning around and around in circles to see which of them would fall over first. Dean and Seamus hadn't been seen since Seamus had tripped over some invisible object and fallen face first into the chocolate fountain after his tenth shot of bourbon.

Harry, who was definitely tipsy but not sloppily so, was standing near the door with the Marauder's Map in hand, instructing anyone who wanted to leave on the best way to get back to their common rooms without being caught. It was a bit of a pointless exercise as none of the staff members were patrolling the corridors tonight just as Dumbledore had alluded to earlier, but it seemed to make the boy hero feel helpful nonetheless. Hermione was assisting Luna, who didn't drink because apparently 'Wrackspurts were attracted to the smell of alcohol.' The two girls were vanishing the debris littered around the chamber. Nobody had been entirely sure about what would happen if they were to leave all the uneaten food and trash in the Room of Requirement when they left so they decided it was best to tidy up. The blonde kept her entertained while they cleaned with an animated description of the holiday that her and her dad had planned for the summer. They were going to attempt to shrink themselves and live amongst a settlement of Gernumbli in east Wales — the purpose of which evidently only Luna and her father could understand.

After everything was picked up and Luna had drifted away, Hermione decided to call it a night. Together she and Harry managed to get Ron to his feet. They said their goodbyes to the few students still milling about and then made their way to Gryffindor tower, supporting the redhead between them. With tremendous effort, they managed to get him into his bed and Harry removed his trainers while Hermione rolled him out of his school robes. They decided to let him sleep in his Chudley Cannons t-shirt and jeans since neither of them fancied undressing him any further. Within seconds the inebriated wizard's snores fell into cadence with Neville, Seamus, and Dean's.

"He's gonna feel like dragon dung in the morning," Harry quipped, peeling off his own robes.

Hermione chuckled dryly. "I think a lot of people will."

"Agreed," he replied then yawned heavily and flopped down on his four-poster to take off his own shoes. "Guess he can sleep it off on the train." He looked up at her. "Gonna be weird, you not being on the train with us."

She nodded. "Going to be even weirder being here after everyone else leaves."

"Blimey, bet it will." He settled back onto his pillows with a deep sigh. His eyes closed for a moment then reopened to focus on her. "We'll see you at breakfast, right?"

"Of course," she said with a smile. "Goodnight, Harry."

"Night, Hermione."

The Muggle-born slipped out of the boys' dormitory, down the steps to the common room, and then up the girls' staircase to her chambers. If nothing else, seven years of climbing the endless stairs of Hogwarts had given her terrific leg muscles.

Once in her own room, she quickly changed into pajamas and crawled into bed, being careful not to disturb Crookshanks, who was curled tightly around her stuffed otter. She smiled and thought of Severus again. It had been a fantastic night. She had danced and laughed and reminisced. The graduating class had grown up together and it had been important to spend this last night as a group. But the one wizard that hadn't been in attendance was also the one that hadn't been far from her thoughts all evening. Her mind had drifted to him, alone in the dungeons and possibly awaiting her arrival, over and over again, and to all the things that the two of them might have done. She missed him terribly, she realized, and she felt guilty for standing him up even though they hadn't had an actual date planned.

She wondered what would happen if she were Floo to his room right then, at four-something in the morning, and crawl into his bed. Would he be angry with her for not coming sooner? Would his former double agent skills kick in and land her at the wrong end of his wand for sneaking up on him unannounced? Would he simply allow her to curl up next to him and sleep? Or would he promptly make love to her now that such things were permissible?

Hermione yawned and closed her eyes. Honestly, right now she was too sleepy to find out how the snarky wizard would respond. There would be plenty of nights after this one in which to thoroughly explore the newest phase of their relationship. Tonight, for what precious little of it was left, she would enjoy the familiar contours of her own bed — a bed that would no longer be hers in a few short hours. Bittersweet thought, that. With a small tired frown, she reached out and pulled both her cat and her otter to her chest and was fast asleep within moments.


	26. Chapter 26

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX**

A rhythmic series of thuds echoed quietly around the bedchamber at the very top of Gryffindor Tower as the Head Girl stacked books into the open trunk at the foot of her bed. It was early and the sky outside the window was just beginning to glow with a pinkish-orange hue. Despite how exhausted Hermione had been upon returning from the graduation party, she had barely stayed in bed for an hour. What little sleep she had managed to acquire had been plagued by a bizarre dream in which she had desperately chased after the Hogwarts Express as it sped out of the station, her arms laden with a teetering pile of cauldrons and books. Just before the train had disappeared into the heavy fog beyond her reach, Snape had materialized out of thin air, standing on the back platform with his robes billowing out all around him and a deep sneer upon his features.

Covered in a thin sheen of perspiration, she had shaken herself awake and immediately gotten out of bed. She had replayed the dream over and over in her head as she showered and dressed but still couldn't quite decipher a meaning. The scene had been permeated with an overall sense of fear but she couldn't make out what it had been a fear _of_ exactly. Had she been chasing her education, i.e. the train, only for it to prove elusive? Or did the train symbolize her childhood? Her innocence maybe? And had Severus' appearance represented her personal or professional relationship with him? Was there even a difference anymore?

Tired and on edge, Hermione attempted to forget the puzzling dream by packing her belongings. Though she wouldn't be leaving the castle with the rest of the students today, she did have to move rooms. The Head Girl chambers were no longer hers. In the fall, they would relocate themselves to whatever House next year's Head student belonged to. Meanwhile, she would take up residence in her new apprentice quarters.

A few days before the Headmaster had shown her and Neville where they would be staying for the duration of their internships. Instead of placing her in the dungeons, near the potions lab and Snape, and Neville close to Sprout, Dumbledore had had one of the unused corridors revamped for their use. When he had led them to the third floor, Hermione had been amused to discover that both her and her fellow apprentice would be residing in the same hallway that has once housed Fluffy, Hagrid's three-headed Hellhound, and the entrance to the underground labyrinth that had guarded the Philosopher's Stone. She was relieved to learn that the dog, the troll, and the rest of the obstacles from her first year had been cleared away long ago.

Her new quarters proved to very comfortable. The layout was similar to the standard staff chambers with a small study, bedroom, and private bath. The décor would be left to her discretion but the furniture was sturdy, neutral colored, and in good repair. Neville's rooms were identical and located just a little further down the recently polished corridor. The wizard, who had had to share a dormitory with four other boys throughout his Hogwarts career, was ecstatic with the upgrade in accommodations.

Dumbledore had also led them down to the school's front gates where he added their magical signatures to the wards that protected the castle and grounds. As of today, they held statuses similar to that of the teachers and were allowed to come and go as they pleased. Neville's apprenticeship, being only a year long, would end the following summer and Hermione's would continue for a year after that.

It was still difficult to wrap her head around the fact that she now basically worked at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She was still a student, of sorts, but also a type of employee, answering only to Snape, as her mentor, and to Dumbledore. Severus had been receiving royalties from the Cruciatus potion for months and been funneling what he felt was her share into an expense account. Every month since signing the apprenticeship contract, a small stipend had been deposited into her account at Gringotts for her personal use. She had only used the extra gold once thus far, to purchase a few more mature sets of work robes, since she wouldn't be able to continue wearing her student ones. With Ginny's assistance, the task had been completed on their last trip into Hogsmeade and the simple yet functional garments now sat folded in a small pile on her bed.

Hermione finished levitating her book collection into the bottom of her trunk and then stacked her clothing and personal effects, including her otter, on top. By the time the sun had crested over the mountains to the east of the castle, all of her belongings, except for her booksack, were safely packed away and the room that she had been living in since September was as bare as when she had first arrived. Lighting the fireplace with her wand, she threw in a pinch of Floo powder, called out the destination, and shoved her heavy trunk into the emerald flames. It would be waiting for her in her new chambers when she arrived.

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat, slung her booksack over her shoulder, and looked around the sparse space one last time. Crookshanks had already left, likely to venture outside and bask in the rising sun, but she knew that the half-Kneazle was bright enough to locate their new accommodations on his own. Gryffindor Tower was no longer home. With a sigh she walked to the exit, doused the fire and the lights, and quietly shut the door on a piece of her past.

The Common Room was empty when she reached the bottom of the steps, save for one younger boy that was fast asleep on one of the couches. She doubted that anyone else would be up for a few hours yet, especially those who would be nursing hangovers from the night before. Hermione contemplated curling up in one of the overstuffed armchairs with a book but really fancied a cup of coffee. Weighing her options and deciding that caffeine was necessary, she made her way over to the portrait hole. The boy on the sofa grunted in his sleep and turned over as she silently slipped out the door. At that hour, even the Fat Lady was dozing in her frame.

The former Head Girl started in the direction of the Great Hall, not entirely sure if breakfast was even being served yet. It was just now six o'clock and she couldn't remember ever eating before seven. When she arrived in the empty Entrance Hall, she was dismayed to find the doors to the dining room tightly shut. A quick peek inside revealed the vast chamber dark and barren.

With a frown she turned back, unsure what to do. She could conjure a cup of coffee but it was never quite as good as fresh brewed. She could probably summon Dobby, who would undoubtedly be happy to bring her some, but she wasn't sure if the elf had relocated to Grimmauld Place yet or not. Requesting such a trifle from any elf, whether paid or not, still didn't sit well with her either.

She was crossing the second floor landing when the solution came to her — the teacher's lounge. When they met with him the other day, Dumbledore had told both her and Neville that they were free to use it once school had ended. He had also mentioned that it was constantly stocked with freshly brewed tea and coffee and an assortment of biscuits. Spinning around on the spot, she jogged back down to the Entrance Hall and made her way to the stone gargoyles that guarded the staff room door.

Coming to a full stop, she looked at the twin sentinels questioningly. "Er, may I go in?"

The statues didn't speak or show any sign of hearing her request but the door between them swung open with a tiny squeak. Smiling, she stepped inside. The empty room was the same as it had always been. A wooden table and a dozen chairs took up the majority of one wall, a small bar was along the other, and an old wardrobe stood in the rear — the same wardrobe that had housed a Boggart in her third year.

Sidestepping the memory of the Snape-Boggart wearing Mrs. Longbottom's clothes, Hermione made a beeline to the steaming coffee pot on the sidebar. She poured a cup, added a tiny bit of cream, and went to sit in one of the large, mismatched armchairs by the cold hearth. She dropped her bag between her feet, pulled a book from its depths, and lit the fire with a casual flick of her wand. The crackling flames quickly warmed the chilly stone chamber and with a contented sigh, she settled back and sipped her coffee.

Hermione tried her best to get into the neurology text that rested on her lap. She had owled her father to send it to her a month ago and had only managed to make a small dent in the extremely dry medical jargon. It wasn't that it was uninteresting but it required a vast amount of concentration to decipher. Her mind that morning, no matter how hard she attempted to focus, kept straying to the dream from a few hours previous. After her fourth pass at the same wordy paragraph, she shut the book with a frustrated grunt and stuffed it back into her bag. Her thoughts were too jumbled to concentrate.

After a few minutes of sitting with her eyes closed, replaying the illusion and attempting to discern any meaning, Hermione was startled by the door behind her creaking open again. She opened her eyes and turned to see her Head of House enter the room in her customary tartan dressing gown, her hair spilling loose over her shoulders. Out of the confines of its normal severe bun, the black strands were streaked far more liberally with gray than they been when Hermione had first met the older witch — her, Harry, and Ron's partial doing, no doubt.

"Miss Granger," McGonagall said with start, "what on earth are you doing here?"

"Good morning, Professor," Hermione replied with a slightly guilty grin. "I, uh, desperately needed some coffee and breakfast hadn't started yet. Professor Dumbledore said that I could start using the staffroom if I wished."

With a curt nod the older Gryffindor moved across the room to the tea service. "Of course, though I doubt that anyone would have begrudged you the privilege even before your apprenticeship. Caffeine is a serious matter around here."

Minerva poured a cup of tea, added the faintest hint of honey, and strode over to the sitting area where the young woman was perched. "Mind if I join you for a moment? I am not quite myself without my morning tea."

Hermione smiled again. She had always been fond of the Transfiguration teacher. Authoritative and strict most of the time, she could also be kindly, fiercely protective, and surprisingly warm. "Of course."

The elder witch sat herself in the chair across from her charge and took a prim sip from her mug. The House Elves brewed a remarkable Darjeeling blend. After a moment she peered up at the girl over her square-framed spectacles. "I'm surprised that you're up so early. I was under the impression that the seventh-years had only crawled into bed recently."

"So you knew?" Hermione asked, not surprised. "I thought as much."

"There is very little that we professors are not aware of," McGonagall replied with a wry smile. "It's always amusing, though. Every graduating class believes they are the first to think up the idea of a last celebration. With all the tumult of the past few years there hasn't been one since you were too young to attend, but it is a tradition steeped in history. On my last night as a Hogwarts student, we all snuck out of the grounds and held a raucous gathering at the Hog's Head."

Hermione gawked at the girly grin on her professor's face, hard pressed to imagine the venerable woman ever being a rule-breaking teenager. "Really?"

Another curt nod and Minerva chuckled. "That was before Aberforth owned the place, of course. The barman at the time was a greedy old wizard that had been all too happy to take gold from a room full of foolish children." She sipped her tea. "If I remember correctly, when your new Potions Master graduated, they chose the Shrieking Shack — no doubt James Potter and Sirius Black's idea."

Hermione giggled and had to wonder if Severus had actually attended that party. After his run in with the Whomping Willow and Remus in werewolf form, she somehow doubted it. She made a mental note to ask him about it later once he was in a congenial mood.

"So why aren't you still sleeping with the rest of your undoubtedly ill classmates?" the Animagus asked conversationally.

"I tried to sleep but my mind wouldn't really settle," Hermione replied truthfully. "I got up and packed my things instead, hence the need for this." She held out her coffee mug in a mock toast and then took a large gulp.

Minerva murmured wordlessly, appraising the younger witch over the china rim of her teacup. She looked tired but more distressed than anything. "Momentous day for you all. A lot of big changes afoot."

"Yes," Hermione breathed, giving voice to the feeling of unease that had been weighing on her shoulders. "I don't really know how to process it all, actually. How do I stop being a Hogwarts student after seven years?"

The older witch nodded, more sympathy imbued in the gesture than was customary. "That is certainly understandable. Everyone else, with the rather surprising exception of Mr. Longbottom, is afforded the luxury of leaving here, providing a clear end to their days as a pupil." She drank from her cup, obviously mulling the predicament over in her head. "When I graduated, it was the custom to tour the word after leaving school. For a year I traveled to every magical place of interest in existence at the time. I met, observed, and studied with witches and wizards around the globe before settling into my adult life. It was a fair few years after that before I returned here to begin my apprenticeship with Albus."

"You mentored under Professor Dumbledore?" the brunette asked in surprise. She had never heard that tidbit before.

"I did. And I don't believe I'm exaggerating when I say that you will likely have a smoother tenure with Severus, even as grouchy as that man can be."

Hermione chuckled. She could only imagine how frustrating Dumbledore would've been as a master, especially to someone as studious and by-the-book as McGonagall. Dumbledore was more of a whimsical free-thinker and the two had probably clashed spectacularly. At least she and Snape had similar work ethics and practices.

"My point is that I had a clear transition and some life under my belt before I began," the Head of Gryffindor continued. "And while you've experienced quite a bit in your short life, you are still very young to be thrown so unceremoniously into adult responsibilities. It's sure to be confusing and unsettling."

Hermione wasn't sure how to respond. She somewhat agreed with the woman's assessment but there really wasn't anything that she could do about the fact that she was young and she couldn't suspend her apprenticeship until she had lived more life. She settled for sipping what remained of her coffee and allowing the pregnant pause to drag on between them.

Minerva tapped her fingernail against her teacup thoughtfully for a few moments before asking, "May I make a suggestion?"

The younger woman nodded, an optimistic glint in her brown eyes. She needed all the help that she could get and she had always trusted the older witch's judgment. "Please."

"Take the train today."

"What?" Hermione asked in surprise. A fragment of her dream flashed through her mind again.

"Board the train with your classmates as you would've done before accepting the position with Severus. Spend some time with your friends. Say your goodbyes in London. And then Apparate back to Hogsmeade." Minerva smiled kindly and adjusted her glasses. "It is not much, but it may help you in separating your days as a student and the days to come."

Hermione sat back slightly and considered the proposal. She had always been meant to take the Hogwarts Express home, as all the students did. As the parting Head Girl, she even had responsibilities to oversee on the train, though she had made arrangements for Draco to handle them alone in her absence. A day's journey on the rails between the Scottish Highlands and King's Cross would probably supply her with some closure — a symbolic end to her childhood, as it were.

Was this what the dream had been alluding to? Did she have a subconscious _need_ to be on the train? If so, what was the part with Snape supposed to be about? Why did she have to chase after both him _and_ the billowing engine? Were they connected somehow or was his scowling visage simply her mind's way of reminding her how angry he must be with her for not visiting him last night?

"It's worth a try anyway," the professor offered quietly as she watched the turmoil play out across the young Gryffindor's features.

Hermione shook herself from her confused musings and attempted to smile. "Thank you, Professor. I think I'll do just that."

The older woman returned the smile and stood to replace her empty teacup on the counter. "I'm glad to hear it." She made for the door, all too aware that the younger students would soon be moving about the school, excited to begin their summer holiday, and that she still needed to get ready. She turned back to her now-former charge, prouder of the woman that she had become than any pupil in recent memory. "And dear?" She waited for the witch to meet her gaze. "Do call me Minerva. All my colleagues do."

Hermione smiled as her Head of House took her leave. It would be so strange to interact with her former teachers as equals, sharing coffee and swapping stories about miscreant students. She was close to Remus and Severus, of course, but even though she had spent a significant amount of time with McGonagall over the years, the title of 'friend' still didn't quite apply. Being on a first name basis with her, Flitwick, Sprout, and the rest of the staff was at once exciting and nerve-wracking.

She suddenly pictured Neville trying to call Severus by his given name without fainting and chuckled. Her amusement, however, was soon eclipsed by an entirely different set of emotions at the thought of the dark wizard. She missed him — missed his touch, the deep timbre of his voice, his snarky wit — but she was also anxious about what his current mood might be after last night. The latter feeling was only exacerbated by the idea of leaving Hogwarts for the day. How could she possibly explain that that's what she wanted to do but still emphasize how desperately she wanted — _needed_ — to be with him?

She wanted to Floo to his study right then and there, from the crackling hearth not two feet away, and bury her face in his chest. The problem with that course of action was that she suspected he wouldn't be of the mind to immediately envelope her. They would have to discuss her failure to show up the previous evening — argue about it, perhaps — and she would have to soothe his wounded ego before he would be amenable to comforting her frazzled nerves or accepting this latest scheme.

Working on nearly zero sleep, she didn't feel up to a row this morning. Their heated disagreements were typically enjoyable, especially at their conclusion, but she felt too discombobulated and vulnerable currently — too much was weighing on her psyche already to be able to withstand his usual obstinacy.

There was a second reason that she didn't think going to his rooms at this juncture was an entirely wise idea. Now that his ban on intimacy was null and void, being alone with him would almost surely lead them to his bed even if they argued first. Passion and anger were close bedfellows. While she had been dreaming of shagging the man for months now, if they began such activities that morning, she knew that she wouldn't have the willpower to leave, either to catch the train or even just to bid her friends farewell.

No, it would be much safer all the way around to delay confrontation until that evening, once she had done what she now felt was necessary. But she didn't fancy just disappearing for the second day in a row either. She would need to get word to him about her plans.

Getting up from the armchair and moving to sit at the empty table, Hermione removed a length of blank parchment and quill from her bag. After applying a quick inking spell, she attempted to pen a note to the wizard. It took three revisions and a great deal of mental deliberation before she was satisfied.

 _Dearest Severus,_

 _Firstly I want to apologize for not coming to your rooms last night. I don't know whether you had expected me or not, but if you did, I'm sorry. I attended the graduation party instead as everyone will be leaving today and I don't know when I will ever see some of them again. If Professor McGonagall is to be believed, which I'm sure she is, you probably remember this rite of passage from your own days as a student. Believe me when I say that though I enjoyed myself, you were constantly on my mind._

 _My second and main reason for writing is to inform you of my whereabouts today. After a discussion with Minerva, as she told me to call her, I have decided to take the train to London one final time. No doubt you will view my motives as silly but I feel a pressing need for finite closure on my childhood days at Hogwarts before I can proceed with my adult placement. I am hopeful that this last journey aboard the Hogwarts Express will grant me that._

 _Do stop muttering "foolish girl" under your breath, Severus. I can practically hear you through space and time._

 _I will return to the castle this evening and hope to spend at least part of the night in your arms. I have missed you terribly._

 _Until then,_

 _Yours, Hermione_

Reading the note again and deciding that it would have to suffice, the Muggle-born rolled up the parchment and spelled it to open only to the Potions Master's magical signature. It was fairly succinct, slightly teasing, and with only the barest amount of mush. Severus Snape was not the type of wizard to whom a person sends an effusive love letter. She would hand him the missive at breakfast so as not to be caught in his all-consuming presence alone. No one would question the action any longer. After all these months of being the man's apprentice, seeing the two interact outside of the classroom had become commonplace.

Hermione slid the scroll into her bag and checked her watch. It was a few minutes past eight. The boys would likely attempt to drag themselves down to the Great Hall soon. She figured it was best to meet them there, lest they worry over her whereabouts. She knew that they at least would be ecstatic when she told them that she'd be joining them on the Hogwarts Express.

As she made her way to breakfast, another thought presented itself as well. Perhaps once they were all aboard the train, her Head Girl duties were finished, and she and the boys were alone, it would be a good time to tell Harry and Ron about her relationship with Snape. The very idea of such a conversation made her pulse accelerate. She didn't want to tell them — she anticipated a hellacious confrontation — but she wanted them to know. She had felt guilty about keeping the truth from them for months. Every time she had had to lie or not disclose the entire truth about her time in the dungeons had felt like another sliver added to the wedge that had manifested between them. Even if they were angry, even if they yelled at her, even if they stopped talking to her altogether for a time, she had to dispel the guilt and dislodge the wedge. They were her best friends and even though keeping secrets from them had thrilled her at first, she missed them knowing everything about her and vice versa.

With her mind mostly made up, Hermione entered the Great Hall, which was already half full. She scanned the room and spotted several miserable looking witches and wizards, all of which had attended the previous night's party. Her resulting smirk was quickly replaced by slack jawed surprise when she noticed the familiar white-blond locks of Draco Malfoy in a most unexpected place — the seventh-year end of the Gryffindor table. He was sitting next to Ginny in what was normally her own seat. The two had been dating and shagging for months and yet this was the first time that he had ever crossed House lines in this manner.

The Head Girl slid onto the bench beside the pureblood, an approving but curious smile playing across her lips. "Good morning, Draco, Ginny."

They both turned to face her. The redhead was beaming. "Morning, Hermione."

The Muggle-born's attention was drawn more to the out-of-place Slytherin. His expression bordered on a scowl and he didn't appear entirely comfortable in his current location. "To what do we owe this _honor_?" she asked, trying not to laugh.

The Head Boy gave a disgruntled sigh. "It was Red's idea and she owes me. Big time."

The younger witch snorted and Hermione saw her hand snake onto the blond's thigh under the table. "It's one meal. Your last one here. I think you'll live, love," Ginny said.

"I feel like I'm going to be hexed at any moment," he muttered, pale eyes scanning the length of the rival table.

Hermione finally gave in and chuckled. "Ginny and I will protect you."

His answering sneer made both witches snicker and he immediately sought to change the subject. "Did you end up in the dungeons last night, Granger? I haven't seen my godfather yet this morning. Did you leave him tied to the bedposts?"

Ginny snickered again and Hermione's gaze moved to the staff table and the Potions Master's vacant chair. She frowned slightly. His absence at the last breakfast of the school year, especially after the previous night, felt ominous. Maybe he had just slept in? "No," she said softly, looking back at the pair. "It was really late when I left the party. I noticed that you disappeared rather early though."

Their twin smirks were slightly eerie. "Last night together for a while," Ginny replied, squeezing Draco's thigh. "Didn't want to waste the whole thing. I don't know yet how hard it'll be to convince Mum to let me visit Malfoy Manor."

Hermione nodded. It would be a hard sell. The Malfoy and Weasley families had been adversaries for a long time, lending a Romeo and Juliet quality to the couple's relationship. They were cute together and she hoped for their sake that the problem could be resolved quickly. "If she says no, you can tell her that you're coming to spend to time with me. We can probably set up a Floo connection or something. Or I could come get you with Side-along and then take you to Draco's house." The redhead wouldn't be able to take her apparition test until August.

The girl's brown eyes sparkled. "Thanks, Hermione. You're the best."

Draco wanted to kiss the frizzy-haired witch for the offer. He was already mourning the loss of unlimited alone time with his girlfriend. It had probably been the best year that he had ever spent at the castle but without being able to see the Chaser on a regular basis, it might just be the worst summer on record. He nudged the girl on his right with his elbow, settling for teasing her instead of outright thanking her. "Better that you waited, Granger. The dungeons will be empty once we've left. Less people to overhear you." He waggled his blond eyebrows suggestively.

"Actually," Hermione began, only to be interrupted mid-thought by the arrival of Harry and Ron.

The two wizards slouched onto the bench opposite the trio, looking almost comically haggard. Despite their disheveled appearance, both boys glared daggers at the Slytherin. Draco sat up straighter, his back ramrod and his muscles tense as if preparing for a blow. No one spoke for what felt like an eternity.

"You two look bloody awful," Ginny said, breaking the heavy tension.

Ron scowled at his sister and then winced as if the expression hurt. "I feel like troll dung."

"Perhaps an entire bottle of Ogden's wasn't the smartest idea," Hermione told him as she passed both of her best friends a small stack of dry toast.

Harry made a face at the offering. "I don't think I can eat. Feels like Voldemort's taken up roost in my head again." He rubbed his scar gingerly. He really didn't think that he had drunk enough to make him feel this bad.

Draco, who hadn't made a sound since the two had sat down, snorted. "That's not the Dark Lord, Potter, just the weight of bad choices."

Hermione and Ginny dissolved into laughter and the hung-over wizards both grimaced at the sound. After that nothing was said about the Slytherin occupant being at the wrong table and breakfast proved as pleasant as circumstances would allow.

Though their demeanor remained pained, the boys were thrilled to hear that the Head Girl would be riding to London with them. The news, along with the promise that she would help them pack after breakfast, convinced them to eat in order to dry up the remaining alcohol in their systems. While they were preoccupied with pancakes, Hermione pulled the scroll from her bag and slid it onto Malfoy's lap under the table. "Will you take this to Severus?" she whispered so that only the blond could hear her.

Pale eyes flickered up to the staff table and back again. The older wizard had never shown up for breakfast. "Is he likely to hex the messenger?"

"Not if it's you," she murmured. "If I go down there though, I'm sure I'll end up missing the train."

Draco searched her face for a long moment, obviously trying to decipher her motives. She smiled softly. "It's fine, really. It's just an apology for last night and an explanation for today. I don't want him to be cross with me when I return this evening."

The Seeker nodded, discreetly tucked the rolled parchment into his robes, and stood, pulling Ginny up with him. Harry and Ron looked up questioningly at the movement. He entwined his fingers with the younger witch's and met their gaze unflinchingly. "Red's coming with me for the morning. Her things are already packed." Neither wizard had the energy to protest and Draco turned to their female cohort. "If you take care of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, I'll handle Slytherin and Hufflepuff. Deal?"

Hermione agreed and bid them a temporary farewell. The last day of school was always a hassle, especially for the Prefects and Head students. There would be tears to assuage, dawdlers to corral, and lost items to track down. It happened every year. The thought of the chaos to come and her responsibilities was fairly effective at taking her mind off the likely disgruntled man in the dungeons and her pending confession to Harry and Ron.

Keeping her promise, the curly-haired witch went back to Gryffindor Tower and helped the boys pack their trunks. As she knew it would, _helping_ consisted of listening to Ron moan and complain as she and Harry collected all of their belongings. Once the last stray sock and House tie had been located — summoned from under Neville's bed and atop the chandelier, respectively — Hermione used her wand to neatly fold and stack everything in both of the wizards' trunks. They shut Pig and Hedwig into their magically Scourgified cages and levitated everything down to the common room where a squadron of House Elves waited to escort all the luggage to the train station.

Once the boys were sorted, the Head Girl systematically worked her way through the dormitories, assisting the younger students with their end of year packing. She had to console three tear-stained first-years who didn't want to leave, find and capture an errant toad that could've been Trevor's long-lost relative, and break up a duel between a pair of fifth-years who were arguing about the ownership of a rusted cauldron.

An hour and a half later, after clearing out the whole of Gryffindor and forcing all of its occupants downstairs to await the call to board the carriages that would take them to Hogsmeade, Hermione sprinted to the Ravenclaw's tower entrance. The door to the common room stood wide open as kids ran in and out, collecting their property and visiting with friends. With the help of the House's Prefects, she managed to clear the tower in record time. The Ravenclaws were always more organized and responsible than her own Housemates.

Another half-hour later and Hermione was exiting through the castle's massive double doors to the line of Thestral-drawn carriages waiting beyond the stone steps. After the recent war, nearly everyone but the youngest of the students could see the skeletal horses. With the veil of mystery removed, the stigma surrounding the creatures had dissipated.

Not seeing Harry or Ron anywhere, the Muggle-born joined Ginny and Draco in their carriage, which provided her with a perfect opportunity to speak with them alone. Once she was seated, the Slytherin locked the door with his wand so that no one else would attempt to ride with them.

"Did you give my note to Severus?" Hermione asked at once, her preoccupation with the wizard coming back full force now that she had a lull in activity.

"Of course," Draco drawled in his bored tone, settling back against the padded seat and slipping his arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. "Nearly lost my arm when he ripped it out of my hand, too."

"He didn't seem to be in the best of moods," Ginny explained patiently. "I haven't seen him in such a snit since before you two started snogging on a regular basis."

Hermione swallowed as the carriage rumbled to life, bouncing slightly over the uneven cobblestones. "Bugger."

"You can say that again," Draco said with a smirk. "Unless that scroll contained a marriage proposal or nude photographs, you're going to have your work cut out for you tonight."

"Why aren't you spending the day with him?" Ginny asked, looking at her best friend worriedly. It was the second time in two days that the girl had chosen some other activity over shagging the wizard that she claimed to be in love with. She wondered if it was cold feet or something more serious. "Have you changed your mind about Snape, Hermione?"

"Merlin, no," the older witch breathed. "I just need to do this."

At the uncomprehending expressions the couple gave her, Hermione told them about her dream that morning, her apprehension at becoming a faculty member at Hogwarts, and her talk with McGonagall. By the time she had finished her explanation, the long line of carriages was rolling through the open gates of the school. They would be at the Hogsmeade station in minutes.

"I'm also going to tell Harry and Ron about Severus while we're on the train," she concluded, nervous butterflies sprouting to life yet again.

Ginny's mouth dropped open despite her best efforts. She had known that the older witch was going to tell the two one day, but suddenly, after three-quarters of year, it felt too soon. Harry and her brother were going to go completely nutters. They still weren't completely comfortable with her relationship and it was totally normal in comparison with Hermione's revelation.

"What I wouldn't give to be a fly on that wall," Draco mused. He wasn't surprised by the girl's announcement. In fact, he was shocked that she hadn't let the proverbial lion out of the bag before now — Gryffindor's weren't known for their secret-keeping abilities. He smirked. Potter's scarred head was going to implode, especially if she used the _L word_ , and he'd pay good gold to see it.

"We will not be going anywhere near that compartment," Ginny said sternly, giving the wizard a look that brooked no argument. "I wish we could be on another train altogether. The entire country is going to hear the screams."

"It won't be that bad," Hermione said with false bravado, a sentiment completely undermined by her terrified expression.

Draco chuckled haughtily, mentally siding with his girlfriend. It was going to be one hell of a show. "Smart move to do it away from the castle at least. Less chance of them immediately trying to hex Severus' bollocks off."

Hermione frowned as the carriage shuddered to a stop. "You two are bloody brilliant at instilling confidence."

They both snickered as the trio exited onto the already-crowded platform. Ginny touched the other girl's arm. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm sure it will be okay. They'll be upset at first but they'll get over it quick enough. They love you."

A small smile parted the former Head Girl's lips. Gods, she sure hoped so. She refused to give up her friendships but just as vehemently refused to give up Severus. "Thanks, Ginny. I'll see you in a bit."

The redhead nodded and then turned to kiss her boyfriend, promising to save him a seat. He had to assist Hermione with getting everyone safely aboard the Hogwarts Express and then establishing patrols with the Prefects.

Once everything was situated and the train was thundering through the Highlands, Draco and Hermione left the Prefect's compartment to find their respective travel mates. The corridor was empty as the rest of the students got settled in and the relative quiet was nice.

About halfway down the moving hallway, they found Ginny in a compartment with Blaise and the Patil twins. Hermione had yet to determine which of the girls the dark-skinned wizard was shagging. Judging by what she knew about him, it could be both, simultaneously. Draco stopped before sliding the partition door open and looked at her. Pale gray met chocolate brown and a sense of understanding and support wordlessly passed between them. "One last hurdle, Granger. Just keep your eyes on the prize."

She smirked. "What exactly is the prize in this instance?"

"Testing out the springs of the Head of Slytherin House's bed."

She chuckled, as much at his words as the boy's purpose behind saying them. Time and time again he had proved resourceful and adept at distracting her from herself. No matter the seriousness of the circumstance, he could always get her out of her own head — a feat that most didn't even bother to attempt. It was one of the things that she loved most about the egotistical wizard.

"See you in London," he said with a grin before letting himself into the compartment to join his waiting girlfriend.

Hermione continued down the passage, checking each window that she passed, looking for not only her best friends but also any misbehaving classmates. High spirits tended to correspond with a high likelihood of shenanigans. Distracted as she was, she didn't see the wizard heading in her direction until she had nearly run into him.

"Neville!" She stumbled to a stop, a hair's breadth away from the large potted plant that the boy held in front of him.

"Hiya, Hermione," he greeted with a sheepish grin, taking a step backwards. He hadn't been looking where he was going either. "Did Professor Snape tell you to go home too?"

"I… What?" she asked in confusion.

"Professor Sprout sent me home for a couple weeks before I start my apprenticeship. She had some personal business to attend to and I wanted to see Gran and visit my parents anyway. I planted them this Flutterby seedling." He held the planter out further for her to inspect. "Did Snape give you leave too?"

In all the chaos that morning, the Muggle-born hadn't given a moment's thought to whether her fellow apprentice would be at the castle alone for the day or not. She would've felt guilty for the oversight except that the situation had resolved itself without her knowledge. His question reminded her that she would eventually have to tell Neville about Severus as well. He wasn't nearly as oblivious as most people assumed and was bound to suspect something since they would be at Hogwarts all summer together. The thought of wizard's abject horror at hearing the news made her smile wryly. "Not exactly," she replied. "I'm just riding to London and then Apparating back."

He nodded, feeling a bit sorry for the witch. She had been mentoring under Snape for months and the evil git couldn't even give her a few days' vacation. Bastard. "Sorry," he mumbled, his cheeks blushing slightly.

She chuckled. "Don't be. It's my choice. I have a lot of work to do. When will you be coming back?"

"Week after next."

"Good. I'll see you then. Should be an interesting summer." Her mind suddenly flashed on an image of the Potions Master lying prone on a sumptuous bed that she had yet to even see and it elicited a grin. _Interesting_ was a misnomer.

They parted and Hermione continued down the corridor in search of Harry and Ron, her exchange with Neville and the image of Severus quelling her anxiety of what was to come to the smallest degree. She found the boys in one of the last compartments, alone and already surrounded by a mound of treats from the trolley. She let herself in, shut the door, and wordlessly cast a Muffliato charm around the small cubicle. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she sat down next to Harry.

"Hey, 'Mione," Ron said in greeting, half a chocolate frog in his mouth.

The bespectacled wizard beside her passed over a pumpkin pasty and she was instantly reminded of all the trips that they had taken just like this one. She could still vividly remember meeting the two boys on their very first train ride to Hogwarts as she helped Neville locate Trevor. She never would've guessed then how close they were to become or how many near-death adventures they were to share. She smiled and took the proffered treat, hoping against hope that they would still love her after her forthcoming confession.

"Get everyone sorted?" Harry asked as the girl bit into her pasty.

She nodded and swallowed. "Hopefully everyone will behave and I can stay in here for the rest of the trip. I'm so tired." Lack of sleep and the morning's events had taken a toll on her. Now that the adrenaline was trickling out of her system, it was rapidly being replaced by fatigue.

"At least you don't feel like a Hippogriff's been tap dancing on your skull all morning," Ron commented with a grimace. "You don't, do you?"

"No," she replied even though she did currently feel like vomiting, "because I knew better than to get pissed last night." He made a face and she smiled slightly. "Why didn't you go to Madam Pomfrey this morning? She could've given you something to make you feel better."

"Tried," the redhead replied, giving in and massaging the bridge of his nose. "There was a line."

Hermione snickered. Half the school had probably been in search of a hangover cure that morning. "Eat some more chocolate. It'll help."

He grunted and peeled open another frog. She closed her eyes and rested her head back on the seat, letting the boys finish their treats. There would be plenty of time to talk once they were well on their way to sugar comas.

The next thing the witch knew, she was being nudged awake by Harry's elbow. She blinked away the bleariness and mentally cursed. The sun was hanging low out of the window and the landscape had changed from mountainous to green pastoral fields. She had fallen asleep and wasted what looked like the entire day. Blast!

"Where are we? How long was I asleep?" she asked in rising concern. She had wanted hours between her confession and saying goodbye — hours in which to convince the boys not to hate her.

"We're about an hour out of London, I think," Harry replied with a smile aimed at calming the obviously agitated witch.

Gods! "Why did you let me sleep so long?"

He shrugged, not understanding the problem. "You looked knackered and we fell asleep too."

She made a face. The sentiment behind letting her rest was sweet but she was furious with herself for losing so much time. She glanced at Ron who gave her a slightly lopsided grin. The chocolate and a nap had at least seemed to put him in better spirits. She looked back at Harry and then resolutely out of the window. "I need to tell you something," she nearly whispered, "and I had hoped to have more time."

Harry shifted perceptively beside her, instantly on guard because of her tone. From the corner of her eye she saw Ron's brow raise.

"What is it?" the redhead asked.

Hermione took a deep breath, steeled her inner courage — she was a Gryffindor, damn it! — and forged full steam ahead. "I've been seeing someone." Her voice came out too shaky for her liking and she cleared her throat before continuing. "I didn't tell you at first because I didn't know if it would amount to anything but it's gotten quite… serious. I don't feel right keeping it a secret any longer."

Ron snorted, drawing her attention from the passing scenery. "Merlin's pants. I thought it was something dreadful. You're allowed to date, Hermione. We know you aren't a nun. Who is it?"

She looked from him to Harry. His green eyes were troubled, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Promise you won't hate me?" The words came out more pained than she would've liked.

The wizard's scarred forehead creased into a maze of concern. "Why would we hate you?"

"Because you aren't going to like who it is."

"It can't be _that_ bad," Harry reasoned. "Malfoy's stuck so far up Ginny's bum that it can't be him."

"Oy!" Ron interjected hotly. "Watch the visuals, mate!"

Harry smirked at him before continuing. "It can't be Lucius Malfoy because you haven't left the castle in months. I don't know anyone else who we'd be angry about, really. After all we've been through together, you could marry Grawp tomorrow and we'd be there to give you away."

The Muggle-born could feel hot tears build at the back of her eyes. The truth was worse, in their opinion, than any of the alternatives that he had mentioned — so bad that he hadn't even considered it a possibility. Her hands balled into fists at her sides as she fought the urge to cry. She looked down at her knees and whispered, "It's… Severus."

The compartment became deathly still and quiet, save for the clack of the train tracks beneath their feet. When no exclamations were forthcoming, Hermione peeked up at the boys, first Ron then Harry. Their features were oddly blank, like they had never heard the name or she had accidentally spoken in Mermish. The silence drug on for several of the longest moments in the history of forever and then Ron guffawed.

"You're taking the mickey," he said once he caught his breath. "Bloody Snape. Yeah right. Very funny."

She ignored the Keeper's comment as she studied Harry's expression. His eyes were swirling with a tentatively-controlled maelstrom. He knew that she wasn't joking. A tear slid down her cheek.

"Why him?" he asked stonily.

"Don't be daft, Harry. She's joking. She could say any name now and it'd be a damn sight better than Snape." Ron chortled again. "So who's the bloke, Hermione? Some Ravenclaw?"

Again she ignored the red-haired wizard. "I'm in love with him," she said, still watching Harry's reaction, glad that her voice had come out relatively steady.

His dark brows rose slightly in surprise. Love was a strong word. Still, his tone was frigid when he asked, "How long?"

Peripherally she could see Ron's face swinging back and forth between the squared off pair, like he was watching a Muggle tennis match. It wouldn't take much more before the truth sunk in. "Since I went with him to Malfoy Manor, though for me it began sometime during all the detentions." She sighed and brushed another tear away like an annoying insect. "I didn't really mean for it to happen, Harry. It just did. Please understand."

The bespectacled wizard stared at his female best friend for a long time, searching her gaze for any misgivings about what she was saying or signs of dark magic that might explain her pronouncement. He found none. Under the tears and obvious trepidation, love shone clearly out of her milk chocolate orbs. She was _in love_ with Severus Snape and she was happy about it — happier perhaps than he had ever really seen her. He didn't need to know Legilimency to see the truth. She was an open book to those who cared to look. Her eyes said it all.

He swallowed and tried his hand at thinking before speaking. It wasn't one of his strongest qualities, but this was Hermione. She was one of the best friends that he had ever had, an immensely intelligent and talented witch who had stood beside him through all of the chaos that he had endured since he joined the wizarding world, including the defeat of Voldemort. He didn't want to speak in anger and say something that he wouldn't be able to take back. He also didn't want to see another tear fall down her face.

He hated Snape and had since his very first potions class. The man was a miserable, bitter, cruel, vindictive, greasy-haired bully. Hermione deserved so much better. As unpleasant as Snape was, however, Harry couldn't deny that he was also creepy-smart, powerful, and braver than most people gave him credit for. He had been a double spy for longer than the trio had been alive and though Harry hated to admit it even in his own head, the foul wizard had saved them countless times over the years. He was caustic but not evil.

Before Harry had finished formulating an opinion or had figured out what to say exactly, Ron piped up again. "Wait… You aren't serious, right, Hermione? You _are_ joking, aren't you?"

Hermione finally tore her gaze away from Harry to look at the Keeper. His eyes were wide beneath the fringe of red. She tried her best to smile at him. "No, Ron. I'm not joking."

Blue orbs growing wider still, the boy spluttered. "You're really…shagging… Snape?!" If the compartment hadn't already been warded, the entire train would've heard him.

His question was slightly loaded. She had yet to actually shag the Potions Master but it was only a matter time until she did — hopefully only hours. She didn't think, however, that they needed to hear those specifics at the moment. "I didn't say I was shagging anyone," she replied. "I said that we've been seeing each other."

"But… it's Snape! We hate Snape!" Ron shouted, looking between the obviously-crazy witch and Harry, begging for help with the point. He knew that Hermione didn't exactly _hate_ the snarky old bat — she had been working with him for months and had seemed unfathomably happy about it — but dating him? How could the girl look at that greasy, sneering, vampire-pale wizard and see anything romantically redeeming?

"I believe the point that she's trying to make," Harry said, speaking for the first time in several minutes, "is that _she_ doesn't hate him." The truth of the matter was she never had. She had been defending the man for years, insisting that Snape wasn't the enemy and chastising them whenever they spoke ill of him. He looked at her again, needing to know one thing. "Did he seduce you, Hermione? All those detentions… did he do anything…" He didn't have a good word for what he was trying to ask. "…unprofessorly?"

Hermione snorted despite the heavy tension in the air. The question was just so Harry and so far from what had actually transpired that it was humorous.

"Sod seducing," Ron said, still louder than she was comfortable with. "Did he slip you a love potion or something? You didn't eat or drink anything funny while you were down in the dungeons, did you?"

The witch's mouth twitched. "No, he didn't slip me a potion or put me under a spell. And no, he never acted anything but professionally during the detentions." She took a deep breath before adding, "I seduced him."

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered in revulsion. "That's disgusting.'

His words stung but they were hardly unexpected. "I know that you two can't understand it and I'm not asking you to. I just didn't want to keep it from you any longer."

"Think I might've been happier _not_ to know," the redhead replied. "That's the stuff nightmares are made of."

Hermione couldn't help but chortle and the tension that she had been holding onto seemed to seep away with sound. He wasn't hexing her or angrily declaring that they could no longer be friends; he was cracking jokes at her expense. Things were going to be okay. She turned her gaze to Harry, who still hadn't really offered his opinion.

His expression was blank. "Would you believe me if I said that I think I already knew?"

"What?" she asked in complete surprise. "How?"

"I don't know. I mean it's a shock but not really," Harry replied, rubbing the back of his thumb across his forehead — a gesture that betrayed the fact that he wasn't entirely sure what it was that he was trying to say. "But you've been spending so much time together, more than what seemed strictly necessary for your apprenticeship. I've checked on you a few times with the Marauder's Map and one night you were in his private study."

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed indignantly. She had worried about that damned map once or twice but had tucked the thought away since she hadn't been able to think of a good solution.

"I was just trying to make sure you were okay. You know that I don't trust Snape."

She scowled. "You should've trusted me!"

"Because you were being so honest and forthcoming with us?" he shot back.

She opened and closed her mouth, having no satisfactory response to that. She frowned.

"It's not just that," Harry said before the girl could try to chastise him further. "I didn't even think much of it at the time. You're in Remus' study all the time and you aren't shagging him."

Hermione wanted to reiterate that she wasn't currently sleeping with anyone but she kept her mouth shut. The Seeker was attempting to make a point and she wanted to hear it. She had been so careful to avoid detection. She had no clue how he had guessed such an outlandish thing.

"There's just been something different about both of you. I told myself that the apprenticeship just suited you, mental as the two of you are about such things, but this makes more sense." Harry rubbed his forehead again. His scar wasn't hurting — it had been just an ordinary scar ever since Tom Riddle had been vanquished — but his brain felt sluggish and achy after last night and this much contemplation was a strain. "You've been a lot less anxious than you normally are. Even during the N.E.W.T.s it was obvious that something or someone was distracting your frazzled nerves. And Snape has been acting weird too. He's still an arse but he hasn't been overly cruel or unnecessarily hostile in months. Remember that boy in Ginny's class that covered the entire classroom in orange goop a couple of months ago? I thought for sure that that kid would be flayed alive and given detention every weekend until he graduated. But Snape just started our lesson like nothing had happened. I asked the kid later and all Snape did was assign him an essay. One bloody essay."

Hermione remembered that incident quite well. The seventh-years had arrived in the dungeons mere seconds after it had happened. Some Hufflepuff boy had blown up his cauldron and splattered its contents everywhere, including all down the Potions Master's robes. The younger class had fled out of the chamber, Ginny shooting Hermione a meaningful look as she passed. The waiting seniors had stood there, frozen in place, watching in horror as the slime oozed down the taciturn man's normally pristine black attire. Hermione was the first to overcome the shock of the scene and had hurried in to help. She met Severus' eyes as she siphoned the potion off of his clothes with her wand. He had yet to say anything but his expression was full of malicious rage and he was obviously on the verge of erupting into a tirade. She had stared at him until he had taken the cue to silently enter her mind. When he did, she pushed forward image after image of her affection for him, desperately trying to head off the storm.

Draco, Blaise, and Harry had slipped into the classroom as the two stared at each other and wordlessly cleaned up the remnants of the explosion. Hermione had sensed Harry watching them at the time but hadn't dared to break eye contact with the professor until he calmly withdrew from her gaze. The room was clean, the students were in their seats, and it was as if the sixth-year debacle had never happened. The corner of his mouth had twitched in an approving manner and class had continued without a hitch. Severus had held her back after that lesson only to snog her soundly once the dungeon chamber was empty and the door was warded.

"You calmed him down," Harry reasoned. "I didn't know how or why at the time, but you did. We all saw it. The Snape of years past would've gone ballistic."

Hermione nodded. Her best friend had paid far more attention than she realized. She should have known he would — he was always trying to sleuth out mysteries. Still, she wasn't sure what it was he was trying to say. "So what does this mean?"

The wizard made a face and shrugged. "I can't say I'm thrilled about it, Hermione. He's old and snarky and there's about a million other blokes that I'd rather see you with. But it's your decision, not mine. If he makes you happy, then it is what it is."

Another tear fell down her cheek, this one born of relief instead of fear, as she smothered the boy in a hug, only releasing him when he complained about needing to breathe. She sat back up and looked across the compartment. "What about you, Ron?"

The redhead still looked awfully pale, the freckles peppering his cheeks standing out in sharp relief. "I'm with Harry, I guess. It's bloody gross but it's up to you." He scrunched up his nose. "I just really don't want to hear any details please."

"Me neither," Harry added emphatically.

The brilliance of the witch's smile could've warded off a hundred Dementors. "I love you guys."

"We love you too, sicko," Ron replied with a lopsided grin, opening up a chocolate frog that had somehow survived their earlier feast.

Harry and Hermione both snickered and accepted a proffered leg.

"You know," Harry said in a serious tone despite the chunk of chocolate in his mouth, "if he hurts you, _I will kill him_."

The former Head Girl glanced at him and smiled bemusedly at the look of fierce brotherly protection in his eyes. She didn't doubt him for a minute. "Only if you beat me to it."

He smirked as the train began to slow down. They'd be at King's Cross station in a matter of minutes. "Should have told us earlier, though. I wasted a lot of time in the last few days on your behalf."

"What do you mean?"

"I asked everyone I could think of to keep an eye on you. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Remus, Neville, Hagrid, even Nearly-Headless Nick," he ticked off the list on his fingers. "I made everyone promise to make sure you were alright."

"Harry," Hermione said in exasperation. "I really can take care of myself."

"I know, Hermione. I know."

The Hogwarts Express rumbled to a crawl as it made its final approach, putting an end to their discussion. They all stood and pulled off their school robes for the last time, the boys tucking theirs into their respective trunks and Hermione shrinking hers to fit into the pocket of her jeans. She helped the boys pull their luggage down from the racks and prepare to depart. She couldn't believe that this was the end of their Hogwarts journey together but any sadness about that fact was overshadowed by the immense feeling of relief that had soothed every nerve in her body. She smiled and bounced slightly on the balls of her feet as they waited to depart.

"Hey, why don't you come to the Burrow with us, Hermione?" Ron suggested as the train gave one last shudder and stopped. They could hear compartment doors already sliding open down the corridor. "Mum's making a big celebratory dinner for us and I think Fred and George are gonna be there."

"I really should get back to the castle." Now that the last hurdle had been cleared, her thoughts were beginning to refocus on Severus awaiting her return. She hadn't even seen the man, outside of her disturbing dream, since dinner the night before. She missed him so much that she felt like an addict suffering from withdrawals.

"You're gonna be stuck at Hogwarts for the next two years," Harry said, levitating his trunk to float behind them. It was so nice to be able to use magic legally outside of school. "I think Snape can spare you for a few more hours."

She felt her cheeks go pink as she unwarded the compartment. That was true enough. She felt torn between the three most important men in her world. She wanted to Apparate directly into Severus' bed and not leave for days, but she knew that this was the last time she would be able to be with Harry and Ron for a while. Life was slowly separating them and she wasn't quite ready to say goodbye. Swallowing the twinge of guilt in the back of her throat, she said, "Alright, but just for a little while."

The trio made their way off the train and to the public Apparition point at the far end of platform nine and three-quarters. Once a student was seventeen and licensed, it was no longer necessary for their parents to retrieve them from the station. If they didn't have younger siblings attending Hogwarts, most of the older students just Apparated themselves home. It was another rite of passage of sorts and the practice helped to keep down the congestion on the platform.

Hermione hugged all of her former classmates that she came across, even those that she had barely known, and Harry and Ron bade farewell to everyone within shouting distance. It was surreal that they all wouldn't be reunited on September first. Hagrid's tearful exclamation of it 'bein' tha end of an era' never felt so real as it did at that moment. Hermione caught Luna and hugged the unconventional witch twice before she went to find her equally wacky father.

When she and the boys reached the Apparition queue, they found Draco and Ginny already in line, saying goodbye as physically as was possible in the crowded station. It had already been agreed upon that Molly and Arthur wouldn't be coming to the station to pick up any of their children this time. Before Hermione had decided to join them, Ron had planned to Apparate his little sister home since she had already taken the lessons and just needed licensed guidance. Now that the Muggle-born was tagging along, she would do the honors. She had always been far better at the three D's of Apparition than either of her best friends.

Once Ginny had released Draco's face with the sucking sound of a plunger being removed from a clogged drain, Hermione approached the blond.

"It sure has been an interesting year. Thanks for that, Granger," Draco said with a smirk, holding out his hand to her.

Hermione returned the expression and wrapped the pureblood into a warm hug, not giving a damn that he was usually opposed to such things. She was really going to miss the prat.

After a moment Draco's limbs relaxed into the girl's unexpected embrace and he hugged her back. "I'm going to miss you too," he whispered into her unruly curls. He glanced at her male entourage standing uncomfortably behind her. They still looked like they would rather hex him than allow him to touch any of their Gryffindor women. It was too bad for them that the witches of their House loved him. He smirked. "I take it that everything went okay with Potty and the Weasel?"

She released him and smiled. He hadn't used those nicknames in months and she suspected that he was only doing so now to cover up his momentary emotional slip. "Yes. Better than expected."

"Good. I'll see you and Severus soon, I'm sure. You can come christen the guest quarters." He wagged his eyebrow salaciously making the girl snicker.

The line in front of them had dwindled quickly and Draco was the next to depart. He winked at Hermione and then held his hand out to both Harry and Ron in turn. Surprised, they shook his hand stoically and then quickly looked elsewhere as the Slytherin thoroughly snogged his girlfriend one more time. Stepping back he wiped a lone tear from her cheek, whispered something in her ear that made her grin wickedly, and spun out of sight.

Hermione slid a comforting arm around Ginny, who looked as if someone had just stolen her favorite teddy bear. Together Harry, Ron, and the two witches left King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, and the Hogwarts Express behind with a loud series of cracks.

Dinner at the Burrow was, as always, chaotic and loud and comforting. Mrs. Weasley fussed over the three graduates and spoiled them with far too much food, culminating in a massive chocolate cake emblazoned with the Gryffindor House crest. The older witch admitted, during the toasts that followed dessert, that there had been times over the years when she had doubted whether the trio would make it to graduation whole and intact. Laughter was interspersed with a few tears as they recounted all the times that had come before. It was a wonderful evening.

Fred and George had come bearing gifts for the three of them — for Harry, a replica of Moody's magical eye mounted to a desk plaque, to prepare him for life as an Auror, for Ron, a pair of Keeper's gloves autographed by the Chudley Cannons, to remind him that no matter how rubbish his future team was there would still be fans, and for Hermione, a full his-and-hers set of Lockhart's Hair Care for Problem Locks products. The witch turned a blinding shade of red as Harry and the Weasley children howled with laughter. Molly and Arthur, who didn't quite understand the joke, watched them all with an air of exasperated amusement.

Before the twins left, they tackled Hermione in a double hug and tried their best to squeeze the air from of her lungs.

"Take care of Snape for us," George murmured in her ear.

"Yeah, we want him well-shagged and docile by the time we send our own kids to Hogwarts," Fred added. They each snickered and kissed her pink cheeks before Flooing back to their apartment.

After she and Ginny helped Mrs. Weasley clean up the dinner dishes, Hermione decided that she had better get back to the school. She had already stayed far later than she had intended and desperately wanted to see Severus. She hugged everyone, thanked the Weasleys for the party, and promised to visit soon. Molly insisted that she take a piece of cake with her and she accepted the huge slab of the chocolate confection, promising that she would share it with Snape.

She hugged everyone again, lingering longer on Ron than the rest of his family, picked up the twin's gift and the wedge of cake, and accepted Harry's offer to walk her out. They quietly strolled through the overgrown garden side-by-side, being careful to avoid the Gnomes prowling through the geraniums. Once past the gate, Harry drew her into a fierce embrace.

"I love you, Hermione."

"I love you too, Harry," she replied, feeling a tear collect at the corner of her eye. This goodbye would be more painful than the rest had been.

He pulled back and looked at her squarely. "You sure you're happy with Snape?"

She smiled softly. Always her protector. "Very."

He nodded, resigned to the fact that he had to accept her choices no matter how distasteful. "Take care of yourself then."

"I will."

He hugged her again quickly before she could spot his eyes beginning to water. "And promise me something," he murmured into her curls.

"What?" she sniffled into his shoulder.

Harry pulled back for the second time and wiped her cheek dry with the back of his thumb. He hated witch's tears, never knowing how to react to them. "Promise me no more lies or secrets. I've had enough of both to last twelve lifetimes."

Her smile was as watery as her gaze. "I didn't want to keep it from you, Harry. I just didn't want you to stop being my friend."

"For the brightest witch of your age, you sure can be daft sometimes," he replied with a smirk. "That'll never happen. I want you to feel like you can tell me _anything_. Even if you decide to marry Snape and have dozens of snarky, bushy-haired babies, I want to be the first to know. Okay?"

She giggled and hugged him one last time, squeezing extra hard. "I promise."

"Come visit soon," Harry wheezed as she attempted to crush his ribs.

Hermione nodded into his shoulder, kissed his cheek, and then spun out of his arms, focusing her thoughts on her destination. She knew that her departure was brisk but if she hadn't left right that second she might have lost her nerve to ever leave.

As odd a thought as it was, life with Harry and Ron would be vastly less complicated than returning to Hogwarts. She knew the boys inside and out, their likes and dislikes, their quirks and proclivities. They were her brothers — safe and comfortable. On the other hand, Severus was still a veiled mystery, even after all the months that they had been together. She knew a lot about him but every new snippet of information that she gleamed only revealed how much she didn't know. The taciturn wizard, however, was something that her best friends could never be. They were her heart, but he was her home.

When she arrived in the cobbled lane on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, she smiled up at the looming castle. She could almost feel his presence there, like a beacon lighting her way. Gods, how she missed that man. She hastened down the road that would take her to the front gates, thoughts of her friends getting pushed to the back of her mind.

Once back in the castle, Hermione made a beeline for her new chambers. The school was eerily quiet without the usual hustle and bustle of students. She didn't meet another person, living or dead, until she reached the third floor landing. Coming off the moving staircase just as it made to sweep in the opposite direction, she spotted Professor Lupin ambling down the corridor, a book held in front of his face.

"It's dangerous to walk and read, Remus," she jokingly chastised as she side-stepped the distracted wizard. How many times had someone told her that? Hundreds? Thousands?

He nearly dropped the book as he stopped short. He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry about that, Hermione. How are you this evening?"

"I'm well. Just returned from the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley threw us a little celebration dinner."

"That woman lives for an opportunity to feed people." His smile warmed. "I'm glad that you got away from the school for a bit. We did miss you at dinner, though."

Ah, a perfect opportunity to access the damage that she had wrought. "Was Severus at dinner?"

"Yes, for a time," Remus replied. "He seemed ill-suited for polite company, though."

Hermione had been afraid of as much. She was sure that he had expected her back by dinner time and she had failed to show up. Again. She sighed. "That was probably my fault. I didn't tell him that I would be gone this long."

The professor's kind eyes crinkled at the edges in amusement. "I suspected something along those lines. He kept one eye on the door throughout the main course and excused himself before dessert was served."

She looked down at the plate in her hand. "I did bring him some cake."

Remus chuckled, thinking that the petite witch would need to serve the treat off of herself in order to alter the Potions Master's current dark mood. He had been watching the couple for some time, though, and had seen how besotted the Slytherin was. Perhaps cheering him up wouldn't be so difficult after all. "May I suggest that you take it to him as soon as possible then?"

Hermione grinned. "Good thinking. See you at breakfast tomorrow, Remus."

"Have a good night, love," the former werewolf called as the girl sprinted off. He shook his head and wandered off in the direction of his quarters, book up in front of his eyes again.

Hermione let herself into her new chambers and lit the candles with her wand. Her trunk was on the hearth rug, still covered in a thin film of soot. She'd have to make time tomorrow to unpack her things. Looking around she spotted another anomaly that hadn't been in the room the last time that she had been there. Placed upon the desk in the corner was a large vase of freshly cut flowers. She moved closer, set the parcels in her arms down, and leaned in to smell the colorful blooms. They smelled of sunshine and summertime and Hermione knew that they had been gathered from the wildflower field out behind the school's greenhouses.

A white card was tucked into the arrangement and she pulled it out to get a better look. It simply read, "Congratulations, pet," in a familiar spiky scrawl.

The Muggle-born's heart soared and she propped the card up in front of the vase. She had never been sent flowers before. They made her feel special and adored. Grinning like a fool, she picked up the twins' gift and hastily moved into the bathroom to clean up before going down to the dungeons to thank the thoughtful wizard in person.

She found Crookshanks curled up in the sink fast asleep. She was glad to see that he had found their new rooms and had made himself at home in her absence. She quietly tucked the box of hair products into the cabinet under the sink, knowing that she would never tell Severus about Fred and George's idea of a present. She then stripped out of her clothes and turned the shower taps on, desperately needing to bathe after a full day of traveling. She absently stroked the sleeping Kneazle's ears as she waited for the water to warm, contemplating how best to handle the situation with the dark wizard several floors beneath her. She knew that he was upset but was hoping that the flowers he had sent indicated that he wasn't in too foul of a temper with her. She'd need to assess the situation in person before deciding what type of remedy was required.

When the small room had filled with steam, she stepped into the shower and washed as quickly as possible while still being extremely thorough. She really hoped that she would be able to lift Severus' mood quickly and that they could move on to more pleasant activities. She wanted nothing more to spend the rest of her graduation weekend in the man's bed.

Once bathed and dried, Hermione opened her trunk. The little stuffed otter sat at the top of her belongings, peeking up at her. With a soft smile, she picked it up and sat it in front of the vase of flowers. Moving back to the trunk, she fished out a small parcel wrapped in tissue paper. A few weeks ago, when she had purchased her new robes in Hogsmeade, Ginny had helped her pick out this little surprise. Returning to the bedroom, she laid the package on the bed and unfolded the wrappings, revealing Slytherin-green satin. She removed a form-fitting camisole that fell just below her navel and matching knickers that left just enough to the imagination but nothing more. The material had a slight sheen to it and felt like water in her hands as she slipped the pieces on. She checked the mirror inside the door of her empty armoire and evaluated her appearance.

The ensemble fit extremely well, charming itself to hug her breasts and bum in a perfect balance between wanton and modest. The green accented the gold flecks in eyes and the bronze tint of her skin. Her hair was a disaster but there wasn't much that she could do about it. Applying Sleekeazy's took time and patience that she didn't possess at the moment. Instead she gathered it into a messy bun and turned back to the mirror. Satisfied she pulled on a set of school robes and a pair of black slippers, pausing only to touch up her toenail polish with her wand and change the color from pink to a matching green.

Picking up the plate of chocolate cake, she walked to fireplace and threw in a pinch of Floo powder. She was nervous as hell but the unusual sensation of being nearly naked, save for the silky feel of her underclothes, beneath the heavy fabric of her robes flared some excitement in her tummy as well. She stooped into the hearth and clearly called, "Severus Snape's Private Quarters!" before spinning away in the emerald flames.


	27. Chapter 27

A/N: This is the chapter that earned the **M** rating of this story.

* * *

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN**

Upon her incident-free arrival into the familiar candlelit study, Hermione took it as a good sign that Snape hadn't warded his Floo against her. He had kept it open for months now, allowing her to come and go as she pleased, even if he wasn't around. She suspected that that very habit was the cause behind the Headmaster's occasional knowing looks. Despite Severus' initial warning that the school's Floo system was monitored, she hadn't been able to stop herself from using the convenient method to visit his chambers and their enigmatic occupant one or twice a week. Sometimes, when he was free, they would read together or play chess — she had improved under his tutelage and could now beat Harry — but there had been plenty of occasions when he had been busy with rounds or meetings and she would Floo to his study just to reacquaint herself with the scent of the Potions Master. The fact that he hadn't warded the entry tonight was, like the flowers in her room, a positive indication that the wizard wasn't inconsolably furious with her.

The man in question was sitting on the end of the sofa, a tattered leather book hiding his face. He hadn't looked up despite the racket of her arrival. His posture was almost painfully rigid, like every muscle in his lithe frame was tightly coiled. She sighed internally, not cheered by his less than warm reception.

"Severus," she called softly. He didn't reply. The slight whitening of his knuckles along the spine of the book was the only sign that he had heard her.

"Is it okay that I'm here?" she asked, raising her voice a notch. "Or am I disturbing you?" She knew that she wasn't — he wasn't even actually reading — but figured that she'd give him the option of dismissing her if he truly wanted to. He turned the page of his novel, as if truly engrossed in its contents, and steadily ignored her presence.

Hermione sighed again, this time out loud, and walked over to stand directly in front of the reticent wizard. When he still didn't look up, she plucked the book — Bram Stoker's _Dracula_ , a selection entirely too loaded to analyze in the present climate — and set it on the coffee table behind her. The professor crossed his suddenly empty arms over his chest and glared at the bookshelf to her left, refusing to meet her gaze. He looked like an overgrown child.

" _I brought you cake_ ," she sang in a purposely sappy voice and held the plate under his hooked nose. She had learned that he didn't care much for sweets but had also discovered his secret weakness for chocolate over Christmas break. He didn't so much as blink at the proffered treat and Hermione huffed. "Oh, stop being so petulant."

That certainly made him acknowledge at her and she almost wished that he hadn't. His brow arched wickedly and the faintest ghost of a sneer crossed his thin lips as he glared at her. The look made her feel like she had just blown up a class project and was about to lose half a year's worth of House points. To his credit and her surprise, he managed to swallow whatever cutting retort had been on the tip of his sharp-edged tongue with a flinty narrowing of his eyes.

Recognizing that calling him names wasn't going to achieve the outcome that she desired, the Muggle-born changed tactics. She sat Mrs. Weasley's plate on the table, stepped out of her slippers, and sat herself across the wizard's lap, resting her feet on the cushion next to him. His muscles felt as tense as they looked, like he was made of iron instead of skin and bone. She took a deep breath and smiled at him. "I'm sorry, Severus. I had every intention of coming directly back to the castle once the train reached London but Mrs. Weasley had planned a special dinner at the Burrow and Harry and Ron really wanted me to go. I agreed because it was probably the last time that I'll be able to hang out with them for a while." Her voice held the tiniest pleading inflection.

The man exhaled loudly, his gaze pointedly not resting upon hers. "I am not angry that you spent time with your friends."

She looked at him blankly. If he wasn't mad about her late return then why the hell were his shorts in such a twist?

Severus dropped his arms from his chest, laying one across the armrest behind her and bringing the other up so that he could massage the bridge of his large nose. "I'm angry because you have twice now shown disregard for your own safety by disappearing without communication and left me to worry over your whereabouts." This wasn't altogether true, of course. Yesterday evening, when she hadn't come to his rooms, he had known exactly where she had gone instead. And tonight, when she hadn't returned to the castle for dinner, he hadn't worried about her wellbeing — he had known that she was with her male cohorts and dunderheaded as they both may be, he knew that they would protect her with their lives. What he was really perturbed by was the feeling of rejection her inconsiderate actions had stirred in him. She had chosen to do other things rather than be with him during such a momentous time in her life. He knew that his reaction was ridiculous and selfish but he couldn't help it. Her behavior had churned up old emotions long since banished to the deepest recesses of his psyche. In truth, he was angrier with his own weakness than with her lack of thoughtfulness. He had become too attached to the little witch's affection and too vulnerable in the process, exposing himself to pain that he had warded himself against long ago.

Hermione studied the Potions Master's features, an easy feat from her close proximity. She wasn't buying his explanation. A lot of people questioned her ability to defend or take care of herself because she was a female — her best friends were prime examples — but he had never been one of them. He had told her once, not that long ago, how he had watched her during the final battle. He knew how fierce she could be when it proved necessary. But something had certainly ruffled the wizard. He was upset but his ebony eyes, even from her sideways vantage point, were full of pain, not anger. Before coming down here, she had suspected that his ego might've been bruised but this ran deeper than she had initially anticipated. He wasn't mad that she had spent time with her friends; he was hurt that she had chosen them _over_ him. She sighed and ran her hand through his lank hair, pulling his face to hers. "I love you, Severus. I'm sorry if I worried you or… hurt your feelings the past few days. It was important for me to spend some time with the boys and participate in the rituals of graduation. I missed you terribly the entire time and if given the choice, I would always choose to be with you instead of without you. I should have properly explained that beforehand, though, and I'm sorry for neglecting to do so." She brought up her other hand to lightly rub his cheek. He obviously hadn't shaved that day and her finger brushed over patches of stubbly hair. "Am I forgiven?"

He scrutinized her contrite expression. The girl had, as was her talent, read more into his mood than he had admitted to and had sought to soothe the wounds that hadn't really been her making. Courting her had been akin to constantly walking through a minefield; he never knew when she might trip over another abused emotion from his past. He was well aware that he was a difficult person to love — at times he was sure that it was a damn near impossible feat — and yet she had never once bowed from the effort. She had been there, time and time again, offering him solace and absolution. In return he had acted like a first-year denied sweets.

Feeling like a heel, he sighed. "Only if you will forgive me for reacting too harshly yet again."

What a simple stipulation to fulfill. Hermione kissed the wizard square on the mouth, tasting Firewhiskey on his lips even though she hadn't spotted a glass or open bottle. He hadn't turned to alcohol to settle his agitated nerves in months and the evidence that he had succumbed because of her actions made her chest constrict for a moment. She drew back slightly and laid her head on his shoulder, knowing better than to comment on his vices. "Thank you for the flowers. They are beautiful."

Severus had picked the blooms and had had the arrangement sent to her new chambers the previous evening, before she had failed to visit him as expected. He was glad now that he had done it. He wrapped his long arms around her, overlapping his hands on her hip. "Of course. Despite my churlishness, I'm very proud of you, Hermione."

They sat that way for a spell, with only the sound of the crackling fire to disrupt the silence, both feeling more relaxed now that their grievances had been aired. A few minutes into the tranquility, Snape was the first to speak. "Did you say that you had cake?"

Hermione grinned and leaned down to retrieve the plate. She sat back up and unwrapped the bundle to reveal a large hunk of chocolate decadence.

Severus' stomach gave a fitful growl. In his agitation, he had barely eaten anything all day. He could've spotted Molly Weasley's handiwork anywhere, having been forcefed her cooking many times over his career in the Order. The overbearing woman always insisted that he was too thin but at least she was a whiz in the kitchen.

The Muggle-born's grin morphed into a smirk at the professor's large eyes and the feel of his stomach gurgling against her side. She transfigured the foil wrapping into a fork, speared a large bite, and held it to the man's mouth. He had never allowed her to feed him before but had a feeling that he wouldn't protest the action now.

His eyebrow arched in challenge but he dutifully opened his mouth and accepted the bite of cake. A small groan of pleasure escaped him as his taste buds came to life. Hermione giggled at his reaction and took a bite herself. Mrs. Weasley's cakes were always heavenly. You could actually taste the love with which they were baked.

The couple continued to share the dessert until the plate was empty. Severus had let the petite witch dutifully feed him each forkful, which he had noticed was always far larger than the corresponding bite she had taken herself. When they had finished, she set the dish and transfigured fork back on the coffee table.

"Better?" she asked, referring to both his previous mood and hunger. She wiped a smear of fudge from the corner of his mouth.

"Much," he replied, his lip twitching at her delicate touch. "Didn't happen to bring some milk as well, did you?"

She made a production of patting down her robes. "Afraid not."

"Pity." He pulled his wand from somewhere behind her and wordlessly summoned a glass of water for them to share. Milk was one of those substances that didn't conjure well and their intimate entanglement made requesting an elf out of the question.

Once she had rinsed most of the sweetness from her mouth, Hermione sat the empty glass on top of the other dishes and snuggled into the wizard's chest. She inhaled the scent that was uniquely him. "I missed you." She knew that she was sounding like a broken record but the sentiment bore repeating.

"I missed you too, pet," he replied, snaking his arms around her small frame again.

She smiled into the scratchy material of his frockcoat and began to fiddle with the top buttons. It was the middle of summer and the man was still wearing wool and most likely layers. He was always fastidiously covered up. She had never even seen him without shirt sleeves, let alone bare-chested. The buzz of a mission began to sizzle in her veins — Operation Undress Snape.

Severus turned his head slightly in order to peer down at the witch in his lap. She was fidgeting with his buttons, a habit he had witnessed before. She was anxious but he didn't know if it stemmed from their row or because she was nervous about what they'd likely do tonight. If it was the latter, he was right there with her anxiety-wise. It had been an eye-opening eight months, a most extraordinarily delightful respite from his normal existence. Even when she was furious at him, she was the best thing to ever happen in his miserable life, but he had kept her desires at arm's length to be sure that he was what she truly wanted before a line was crossed that could never be redrawn. To his utter astonishment, she was still here. She hadn't strayed or gotten fed up with him. If anything she had held on tighter, wiggling her way into every crevice of his brain and insinuating herself into a heart that he had assumed had stopped beating long ago. His anxiety this evening wasn't over the fear that she would walk away but his determination to make it wonderful for her while reigning in his own libido after months upon months of self-denial. It would be an impressive feat if he lasted longer than two minutes.

She popped his top button through its hole and looked up at him. He was momentarily startled by the look in her eyes. They had darkened slightly but shone with intense determination — that selfsame fire that he had been captivated by before. Was he the intended target? He wanted to slip inside her thoughts as she stared at him but resisted, opting for words instead. "What's going on in that crowded mind of yours?" Her smile was simple and sweet and breathtaking.

"I was thinking that you wear an absurd amount of clothing," she mused and then ghosted a finger down the line of his jaw. "But now I'm completely distracted by the notion that you should kiss me."

Not being an utter fool, he drew her sweet lips to his own, kissing her softly at first and allowing the intensity to build naturally. He had thought that it would be a task to break down the barriers of propriety that he had carefully erected between them to safeguard her virtue all these months. In reality, they fell away as if made of gossamer strings. Heady passion flared like it had the first time that they had kissed and he drunk in the sensation like man stranded in the desert.

Hermione was ensnared. His mouth, still tasting of decadent chocolate and a touch of bourbon, worked over hers in a way that was at once foreign and familiar. He hadn't kissed her this way, with total abandon, since the night that they had shared at Malfoy Manor. She had become accustomed to two types of snogging with the wizard — tightly controlled and calculated or possessive and demanding. His kisses now felt as if he was finally allowing her access to all of him, unchecked and unrestrained. The sensation left her breathless as an acute ache started to burn deep in her belly.

She squirmed in his lap, trying to get closer to him, wanting to crawl inside his very skin and live there forever. When he pulled back from her mouth for some much-needed oxygen, his dark eyes were molten. Though she was on top of him, she suddenly couldn't stand the distance between them. She scurried off of his lap to rearrange herself, intent on straddling his thighs instead. Her school robes bunched up and thwarted the attempt, eliciting an actual growl of frustration from her chest. Standing upright again, she unbuttoned the heavy material and unceremoniously flung it on the far end of the sofa.

The wizard stopped her as she made to climb back into position, holding both her arms down by her hips. His fiery gaze raked down her body, appraising her form. In the heat of the moment, she had forgotten all about the outfit that she had worn for him. She looked down at herself and then back at him with a shy smile. "Do you like it?"

Severus' vocal chords had frozen in place. He had never seen the witch in anything more seductive or scandalous than his godson's pajamas the night that this all had begun. He had grown accustom to trying to discreetly decipher her curves through her robes, her school uniform, or the occasional Muggle outfit. In comparison, the amount of skin on display in front of him was a visual smorgasbord that directed the majority of his blood flow to his crotch. It wasn't just the sight of her so scantily clad that had him reeling, it was the sentiment behind the outfit. She had dressed provocatively for him and in his House colors no less. The notion that the witch had gone into a store to purchase such an ensemble solely for his pleasure pulled on more than just his inseam.

She wiggled out of his grasp and turned slowly on the spot to show him her backside, which was barely concealed by her shimmery knickers. He felt his jaw drop open. She was a vision, an intoxicating blend of sex and purity. He wanted to rip the scant shreds of fabric off her and carry her to his bed. He swallowed so thickly that it was audible as she turned back around. There was color high on her cheeks and her chocolate eyes were ablaze. Only one thing was amiss to complete the look.

"Take down your hair," he managed to say, his voice low and gravelly like he hadn't used it in years.

She looked at him curiously for a moment and then shook her head. "It's a mess. I didn't put anything in it after I showered."

He stared at her, unable to elaborate on his desire, until she acquiesced and pulled the band out of her curls, giving them a little shake. His nostrils flared as the scent of jasmine floated through the stale dungeon air. The witch's hair had been ridiculous for as long as he had known her but he had developed a soft spot for it. The wildness of her chestnut locks seemed to ground him somehow. Their floral fragrance clung to his robes after they spent time together, brightening his mood whenever he caught whiffs of it the following day. He took in the full sight of her and swallowed again. "You are… stunning."

Hermione beamed at his praise. She had never considered herself beautiful or particularly desirable, concerning herself more with intelligence and cleverness, but it was intensely gratifying to hear him say such things. In the very darkest, most vulnerable recesses of her mind she could still vividly recall him making fun of her teeth in her fourth year. My how things had changed. She'd have to owl Ginny later and let the younger girl know that the outfit had been a raging success.

Climbing back onto Snape's lap, she placed a knee on either side of his legs and pressed her chest to his. She thanked him for the compliment and placed a kiss on his cheek. His arms went around her hips and settled at the small of her back, holding her in place as if he expected her to flee at any moment. She could feel the slight tenting of his trousers at the apex of her thighs and a growing hardness that hadn't been present before her change in position. Her face flushed again.

"You're welcome though you hardly need to thank me for not being blind," he said dismissively. He rubbed the material along her waistband between his thumb and forefinger; it felt curiously liquid. "Please don't tell me that this once belonged to Draco."

She snorted, caught off guard by the statement and the image it conjured. She would've paid good Galleons for the prissy blond to have heard his godfather say such a thing. "It's brand new. I bought it just for tonight," she replied, kissing the hinge of his jaw. "But if you think he'd like it I could buy him a set for his birthday."

The Potions Master chuckled, the deep rumble of his chest against hers adding yet another level of sensation. She idly wondered if one could die from sensory overload. His cool fingertips slid beneath the satin covering her back to trace her spine and she decided that it wouldn't be such a bad way to go.

Hermione leaned further into the wizard's body to grant him more access and her lips traced his jawline. She peppered the slightly coarse skin with feather-lite kisses and went back to undoing his frockcoat. Beneath it was another long row of buttons fastening his white linen shirt. It was a wonder that the man made it class on time in the mornings; it must take him ages to dress. She went to work on the shirt, placing her mouth to the skin of his neck as it was exposed. Under the crisp, starched material was yet another layer in the form of a cotton undershirt. She growled into his skin. "If you don't remove these blasted clothes, I'll be forced to use a Severing charm."

He chuckled and pushed her back slightly so that he could undress. He took off the coat and dress shirt and laid them neatly on top of her robes at the end of the couch. The lack of urgency in his actions was slowly driving her mad. Grabbing hold of the t-shirt, she tugged the hem from his trousers and attempted to wrestle it off of him. With a sound of amusement, he assisted her with pulling it over his head and discarding it, leaving his shoulders, arms, and torso completely bare.

Hermione stared down at his chest for the first time and was brought up short. The pale flesh was marred by a myriad of old scar tissue, crisscrossing over the skin like a jagged, macabre roadmap. There was barely a square inch of him that didn't bear some remnant of torture or injury. She knew from personal experience that only Dark magic would've left this type of wreckage — normal scars could be healed and vanished. She had seen what remained of the former Death Eater's Dark Mark before but never would've guessed that he concealed this much damage beneath his robes. Tears burned in the back of her eyes at the sight.

Severus' gaze was sharp as he watched the witch examine his chest. He carried the mistakes of his past with him wherever he went and knew that they did not make for an attractive picture. No one, save for Poppy, had seen his scars in years. Having this beautiful, flawless girl stare at them caused a sudden wave of bitter self-loathing to crash over him. He crossed his arms over his chest to hide the raised tissue.

Having been focused on the overlapping lines on his abdomen, Hermione was startled by the movement and looked up questioningly. His jaw was set in a rigid stance, a threatening storm swirling in the depths of his black eyes. She frowned. "What's the matter? Why are you covering yourself?"

"I have no desire to be gawked at," he snapped coldly. "I'm well aware that they are disgusting. I don't need to be reminded."

Her brow furrowed and she pushed his arms out of the way with some effort. "I wasn't gawking and they are most definitely _not_ disgusting." She brushed a finger reverently over a pearly line than ran across the top of his defined pectoral muscle. It was slightly thicker than the surrounding skin but smooth to the touch. Snape made a derisive noise in the back of his throat and her gaze shot back up. "You don't believe me?"

"I don't believe that you can look at this," he gestured at his torso, "and not find it revolting, no."

Hermione frowned again and pulled off her camisole in one fluid motion. She threw it aside and glanced at him. He had seen her topless once before but the exposure still brought color to her cheeks. Once assured of his full attention — he did an admiral job of keeping his gaze on hers — she looked down at herself and traced the iridescent mark that ran from her collarbone to just below her sternum, winding off-center and closer to her left breast than her right. She had earned it fighting the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries two years ago. Dolohov had shot a curse at her that, had it hit its intended mark, would've killed her. There was a second scar, still a deep purple, that snaked across her right hip bone. She touched it delicately. She had sustained this newest one during the final battle from one of Voldemort's many masked minions. She had sliced him into ribbons in retaliation, never knowing his identity or if he survived. Madam Pomfrey had been able to heal both wounds and purge the curses from the surrounding internal tissue but had not been able to obliterate the scars that they left behind. They had bothered her for a while, blemishes on both her flesh and her psyche, but over time she had come to think of them more as badges of courage.

She glanced back at Severus to find him staring intently at the irregularity on her hip, his eyes tracking her finger's progression. She smiled softly, feeling that she had already made her point. "Do you think mine are revolting?"

He most certainly did not. In a peculiar way, they were lovely — reminders that though she had battled, she had also lived. They did, however, make him wish that the men responsible weren't already dead and debilitated so that he could have the pleasure of hunting them down and killing them with his bare hands. He met her gaze and shook his head, not having words adequate enough to answer.

Hermione placed her fingertips back upon one of the wizard's many scars and said, "To me, these are beautiful. They tell the story of your bravery and sacrifice." To cement the point, she leaned down and replaced her fingers with her lips, kissing along each raised mark that she could reach. The sinewy muscles of his chest and abdomen jumped at her touch, as if in acceptance of her soothing caress.

When she ran her tongue over one particularly serrated mark that bisected his nipple, Severus groaned and pulled the witch up against him so that he could kiss her. She still surprised him at nearly every turn. Every time he thought that he understood the depths of her affection and compassion, she proved him woefully ignorant. He poured all the adoration he possessed into kissing her, letting his lips express all the emotions that he couldn't seem to vocalize.

Hermione mewed softly into the wizard's mouth as they kissed. She felt drunk on this newly-discovered fountain of passion. Her nipples were drawn into hard nubs against the warmth of his chest. Her knickers felt sticky between her legs and the dull ache in that area had picked up in intensity. Shifting forward on the Slytherin's lap and rolling her hips in attempt to find relief, her core rubbed against the ever-hardening bulge in his trousers. They both moaned simultaneously, the sound swallowed into the depths of their kiss. Snape pulled back slightly and stared into her eyes with an intensity that could have liquefied stone. Wordlessly and without breaking eye contact, he gathered his hands beneath her bum, pulled her even closer to his torso, and somehow managed to stand from the couch with her in his arms.

She gasped at the movement, her legs reflexively wrapping around his waist and her arms going around his neck. Pausing for only a moment to ensure that she was secure, he carried her to the far end of the study and through the door that had always shielded his bedchamber from view. When he stopped in front of the bed, she disentangled herself from the wizard's slim frame and allowed him to set her down on the floor, feeling momentarily bereft of contact. He lit the candles around the room with his wand and then stepped back to remove his boots. As he did so, Hermione glanced around curiously. In all honesty, there wasn't that much to see. The chamber was the size of her new bedroom a few floors above them and only held a large bed, a pair of nightstands, a fireplace, and a tall armoire in the corner. The furnishings were made of a mahogany so dark that it appeared black in the weak light and the bed linens were solid white, creating an interesting contrast. She wouldn't have pegged him for white sheets — the man wore black three hundred and sixty-five days a year — but she liked the effect. It was like a spotlight was aimed at the bed with everything else fading into the darkness. The only personal touch in the entire room was a small silver frame that sat upon the table on the opposite side of the bed, too far away for her to discern what it displayed.

Hearing the second boot fall on the stone floor, her attention was drawn back to the half-dressed man before her. Merlin but he was striking — all hard lines and shadows. She wanted to map every inch of his body with her mouth. His slender fingers went to the buckle of his belt and she squeaked in protest without thinking. His hands stalled and he looked at her with a single raised bow.

She blushed at her outburst and closed the distance between them. "Sorry," she whispered, placing her small hands on his chest and her lips to his sternum. "I want to undress you, Severus."

He immediately dropped his hands to his sides and she felt him place a kiss on the crown of her head. With a smile she went to work on his belt. It was a difficult task with trembling hands but she persevered. She got the leather restraint undone and then unbuttoned his trousers and cautiously lowered the zip. The evidence of his arousal was straining against the fabric and the last thing that she wanted to do right now was cause him injury. Once the zipper was down, the wizard exhaled in relief as his erection, still veiled in the more-forgiving black material of his shorts, sprang upright with the velocity of a caged panther being set loose. In a different setting, Hermione might have found the sight amusing.

Meeting his smoldering gaze, she circled his hips with her hands, hooking her fingers beneath the waistband of his trousers, and gently pushed them down. He was a thin, angular man and his shorts were made of a slightly silky material so it didn't require much effort to cause the heavier material to fall to the floor. It pooled at his feet and issued a small metallic clang as his belt met the stone tiles.

Severus stepped out of his trousers and pushed them out of the way with a bare foot. They would be hopelessly wrinkled in the morning but at the moment, he couldn't give the slightest damn. He wrapped his fingers around the witch's slender biceps and walked her backwards until her thighs hit the mattress. Running his hands down the length of her arms, he brought them to rest low on her hips and hooked his thumbs into the sides of her knickers. His eyes never once left hers, mesmerized as he was by the way the chocolate orbs seemed to melt into dark puddles at his touch. ""My turn now, I think," he murmured silkily, tugging softly on the sheer fabric.

Hermione wanted to argue that she hadn't finished the task of undressing him yet — his boxers were still obscuring a vital part of his anatomy from her viewing pleasure — but the look in his eyes robbed her of all retort. He had stared at her heatedly before — there had been times when she had feared that her cheeks might combust from a single knowing glance across the Great Hall — but this was on a different level. Her classmates had always complained that the Potions professor's black eyes were emotionless and cold but at the moment they seemed to be burning to her core, to the very essence of who she was, the flames eating away everything superfluous in their path. If she survived the inferno, she knew that she would be forever altered.

Severus was a bit surprised when the witch didn't insist on divesting him thoroughly but took the opportunity that he was afforded without delay, pulling the green fabric down her hips at a teasingly slow pace. His eyes roved to the flesh being revealed, millimeter by millimeter. She was exquisite. Her breasts weren't large but looked to be a perfect handful and gloriously perky with youth. Her dusky pink nipples were small and puckered into hard points. Her stomach was flat and her hips and thighs were slightly thicker than the rest of her frame. A tidy jumble of dark brown curls shielded her sex and looked soft enough to pet. He stooped to glide the material down her thighs and help her to step out of it. From his lowered position he could smell her arousal and see a tell-tale glisten on her intimate folds. He inhaled deeply and stood up, flinging the tiny knickers in the direction of his trousers.

Dipping his head to recapture her mouth, his left hand went around to graze the newly-revealed skin just above the swell of her bottom and the other lightly cupped her breast. He had been right; the soft globe of flesh fit his hand like the two had been molded for one another. He began to gently kneed her skin, letting the side of his thumb whisper ever near the peaked nub but not quite making contact. Her breathy inhales encouraged his ministrations.

Hermione felt like every nerve in her body was tuned to the highest frequency possible and was residing just beneath the dark man's hand. In all the months that they had been seeing one another, things had never progressed further than kissing. He had never touched her more intimately than the occasional playful pat on her bum through her uniform and robes. As juvenile as it sounded, she had been dying for the wizard to feel her up. Reality was proving infinitely better than her fantasies had ever been.

She pouted slightly when he drew back from her lips again but gasped when he dipped down and ran the flattened top of his tongue across her nipple. The action sent a jolt of electricity down her spine. When he pulled the hard nub into the exceedingly warm cavern of his mouth, she moaned and threaded her hand through the inky strands of his hair. "Oh gods, Severus," she whimpered.

The Slytherin looked up like the cat that had caught the canary. Flicking his tongue over her delectable nipple again, he stood up to full height. He wanted to taste more of her, wanted to sample every flat plane and curve of her flesh. He picked the petite witch up at the waist and sat her on the firm mattress, eliciting another gasp. Her feet dangled off the edge of the bed as she stared longingly at him. The look made his groin ache. "Shift back a bit and lie down for me, pet," he murmured, his voice growly with pent up desire.

Hermione's mind flashed back briefly to the night that they had spent alone on Lucius' couch in the library at Malfoy Manor. She had told him, not untruthfully, that his voice was comforting in a ploy to get him to read _Pride and Prejudice_ to her. He had employed his silkiest tone once he had finally acquiesced, no doubt in an attempt to frazzle her. After she had compared him to William Darcy, though, the quality of his narrative had altered, exposing a vulnerable yet steely note. Now he sounded as if he had been breathing fire or gargling with rough pebbles. The change demonstrated his slipping control over his emotions and seemed to speak directly to the jumble of nerves between her thighs. The man could talk her into an orgasm as easily as most men could order a pint at their local tavern. Her cheeks heated at the thought but she did as she was directed, scooting back on the soft white comforter and lying back.

She felt incredibly exposed in the position. Nearly every inch of her was available to the wizard's gaze, a fact that obviously hadn't been lost on him either. She watched his face as he peered down at her naked form from his standing position. Every place that his eyes touched seemed to burn, like her entire body was blushing from his attention.

Severus took a moment to simply drink in the sight of the beautiful witch lying supine on his bed, her unruly hair fanned around her like some ornate headdress. It was an image that he had never thought he would be privy to in real life and he committed it to memory as if he'd be rendered blind tomorrow.

Climbing onto the tall mattress, he stretched out beside the girl, his tented boxers lightly grazing her outer thigh. He propped his head up with his hand and looked down at her for the briefest moment, taking note of the mingled passion and anxiety in her expression, before leaning down to reacquaint their lips. He kissed her languidly, refusing to let her speed up his ministrations. He would have to exercise some control over her ardor if he had any hope of surviving foreplay without staining his shorts like some rutting adolescent. He wanted to take his time with the witch, to drive her past the brink of sanity before he claimed her fully. He had scant firsthand experience with virgins but knew enough to know that the pleasure gained from their initial coupling would be mostly one-sided. He had been planning for this night for quite some time and wanted her to experience the throes of ecstasy at his hand before any pain that would be felt.

As he continued his slow mapping of her mouth, his free hand moved to caress her perfect breasts once more. The woman moaned into his kiss and arched upwards as his fingers grazed lightly over the puckered flesh surrounding her nipples. Her small hands fisted almost painfully in his hair and he smirked at her enthusiasm. Her undoing was going to be breathtaking.

"Relax, love. Enjoy the buildup," he whispered huskily into the shell of her ear as he moved to kiss the delicate spot beneath. Her body visibly trembled at his words and his lips quirked against the warmth of her skin.

Hermione made a concentrated effort to follow his instruction. Her fingers unclenched from his scalp and she realized belatedly that she may have hurt him. She soothed the area and tried to relax her tightly coiled muscles. She focused on the sensations of his mouth on her neck as it moved towards her collarbone. He had called her _love_ , a word that had never fallen from his lips before even as a pet name. The sound of it reverberated through her brain and warmed her insides in a way that no magic could produce.

The wizard left no patch of skin untested, running his lips, teeth, and tongue over her neck, collarbone, and breasts almost methodically. She could tell that he was gauging her reactions to each spot and cataloging them to memory. When he suckled at points that elicited moans or made her toes curl reflexively, he made sure to pay them ample, repetitive attention. He seemed to be in the sole business of her pleasure and the idea was such a strong aphrodisiac that she could feel the slickness between her legs creep down towards her bum. She had never been so aroused in all her life and thought that she might faint from the sheer pleasure of it all.

Once he had kissed every inch of her breasts, paying special attention to her straining nipples, he shifted down further on the bed, laving her stomach and dipping his tongue into the indent of her naval. The foreign sensation tickled and she giggled, wiggling slightly away from his mouth. In the movement her thigh brushed along the hard length of his boxer-clad erection, dragging a guttural moan from the man. He may have been employing all of his talents to heighten her pleasure but it was obvious that she wasn't the only one enjoying themselves.

Once recovered, Snape kissed the hip bones that jutted out ever so slightly when she laid flat and traced the purple scar with his mouth, murmuring unintelligibly against the raised flesh as if in prayer. He then ran his tongue across her pelvic bone right above the patch of intimate curls. Her entire body trembled at his efforts, desperate now for direct contact. If he didn't touch her soon, she would have to do it herself. The mounting pressure was almost painful.

Just as she was on the verge of pleading with her tormentor, he shifted his body again, nudging her thighs apart so that he could lie between them. He pushed her knees up on either side of his head and she blushed deeply, both from the knowledge that all her was now exposed to his perusal and from the slightly chilled dungeon air coming into contact with her drenched folds.

Severus took in the sight before him. Her sex was glorious — pink and slightly swollen with arousal, the skin shone like diamonds, every inch slick and wet. He felt like a dying man staring at a pool of Elixir of Life. Inhaling her aroma deeply, he focused on kissing and nipping at her inner thighs, teasing the witch as he drew ever closer. By the time he reached the apex, she was squirming and panting in desperation.

A hairsbreadth away from her engorged clit, he gazed up at her face. She was watching him with heavy-lidded eyes. He wasn't sure how much she could actually see, the portion of her pupils that were visible seemed to be having difficulty focusing. He smirked. "May I?" he purred, eyes flicking down then back to emphasize his meaning.

Hermione whimpered and bucked her hips upward. The burning need was so intense that she was light-headed. His warm breath washed down her slit and it seemed to break her last shred of control and sanity. Anxiety or embarrassment could not compete with the all-encompassing need for relief. She clutched at his hands, which had been gently kneading her outer hips. "Pleeaaasssse Severus," she cried out. "If you don't touch me I'm going to die."

His deep rumbling laughter rocked through her core a fraction of a second before the warmth of his tongue delved into her flesh and she knew nothing more. Everything floated away on a cloud of pure pleasure and adrenaline.

Several divine minutes later — it could've just as easily been hours or days as she had no concept of time — Hermione became vaguely aware that her hands were once again fisted into the wizard's dark hair as his tongue pushed her to the very brink of ecstasy only to pull back before she could tumble over. After the third or fourth time this happened, she had grabbed at his hair in order to hold him in place. The attempt hadn't worked and she now suspected that he was purposely trying to drive her to madness.

Opening her eyes, intent on telling her persecutor off, she met his gaze as he watched her from his position between her thighs. His eyes were pools of molten tar, black as night but boiling hot. Apparently he had been waiting for her to look at him because as soon as she did his tongue went into overdrive, zeroing in on the place that had been so desperate for his attention. Feeling the world crumble in around her, she moaned and her entire body shuddered as the elusive climax finally found purchase.

Panting to slow her thundering heart, Hermione took stock of herself. She felt as if she had momentarily blacked out from the intensity of her orgasm. Her limbs ached and her throat felt raw, like she had been screaming though she couldn't remember doing so. Severus was still lying between her spread thighs, lapping gently at her folds in an attempt to clean up the mess that he had skillfully created. She watched him for a moment, his bowed head and inky hair bobbing ever so slightly below her pelvic bone. His eyes were closed in meditation, like he was silently worshipping at the temple of her sex. The sight did nothing to steady her rapid pulse.

Taking his time to savor every drop of the girl's sweet nectar, Severus finally placed a dainty kiss on her lower lips and moved to lie back on the pillows. It had been years since he had partaken so intimately of a woman and he had never done so with someone as responsive or as delectable as this witch — _his_ witch. He could have drunk from her fountain all night. He had known going in that it would be her first experience with oral sex and now suspected that he had been the first to lead her to a climax not wrought by her own volition — a heady notion indeed.

He glanced over at her and smirked. She already looked thoroughly shagged, her arms and legs thrown about haphazardly and her hair a riotous mess from being thrashed about on the comforter. She looked at him and her eyes were still slightly glazed over with orgasmic haze. He took a mental snapshot. "Are you alright, pet?" She nodded feebly. "Come lay up here beside me."

Hermione had to debate with her muscles to get them to cooperate but managed to crawl up against the nearly-naked wizard's side. He turned slightly to envelope her in his arms and she kissed him deeply, tasting the product of her arousal on his tongue. "That was amazing," she breathed as she moved to kiss the pulse point under his jaw.

"I surmised that you enjoyed it," he replied as he attempted to thread his fingers through her curls. The back of her hair seemed to consist of a single massive knot and he gave up the effort, settling for smoothing his hand across her shoulder.

She half snorted into the skin of his collarbone. _Enjoy_ was a vast understatement but she was too distracted by the bare flesh of his torso to correct him. She took her time mapping his chest, listening to his breathing and taking note of what he seemed to prefer. His skin was smooth where it wasn't scarred, porcelain white, and hairless. She had never seen a full-grown man without chest hair and instantly fancied the effect. When she circled his flat nipple with her tongue and sucked it into her mouth, he groaned and his pelvis bucked slightly. She peeked from under her lashes at the enormous tent in his shorts. She yearned to touch him there, to feel his hardness through the thin material but hadn't quite summoned the courage to do so. Instead she placed her hand on his upper thigh and continued kissing her way down his body. When she reached his navel, she nipped at it, causing his hips to thrust upward again. Grinning and moving lower, she discovered a fine trail of silky black hair leading from his belly button to beneath the waistband of his boxers. Its growth hadn't been impeded by the scar tissue that bisected his lower abdomen. She traced a finger down the exposed line of hair and then across the skin just beneath the elastic. She made to move her hand further south but stopped herself halfway through the movement.

"What's wrong?" Severus questioned in a strained voice. He had been watching her progression down his frame with rapt attention and had caught her hesitation.

She looked up at him, cheeks tinged with embarrassment. She dropped her eyes. "I've never…" Her whisper trailed off into nothingness.

Snape frowned. "Come here." The girl crawled back up to lay at his side and rested her head on his shoulder. "I know that you're inexperienced, Hermione," he said softly. "That was never a mystery. We don't have to rush. I'm not going to make you do anything that you aren't ready for." His lower half vehemently disagreed with this statement but he ignored it.

The Gryffindor's eyes flew to his face. "It isn't that. I want to! I just don't know how… I want to do it right."

A deep chuckle rattled through his chest. Ever the perfectionist. "You do realize that this isn't an exam, don't you?" She hid her face in the crook of his arm causing her frizzy curls to tickle his nose. He blew them away and held her tight, sensing her insecurity. "If it were," he murmured in his most velvety tone, "you'd have already received an Outstanding."

Hermione giggled despite her discomfiture. "That brings my total to two. From you anyway."

His lips twitched and with a single tapered finger beneath her chin, he drew her mouth to his. They kissed for several minutes until he could feel the witch's anxiety melting into passion again. When she began to unconsciously squirm against his side, he laid his hand on top of the smaller one that had been resting on his chest. Ever-so-gently he guided it down to his near-painful erection.

The Muggle-born drew away from the man's intoxicating mouth to watch in fascination as her hand was led ever lower, gliding effortlessly over old battle wounds. She wondered if he would guide her beneath his shorts to touch his bare flesh but when their conjoined fingers reached the waistband he lifted her hand and placed it against the straining material. She instinctively cupped her palm around the sheathed shaft and he groaned into the ear that he had been tracing with his tongue. The throaty sound of his desire coupled with the hard length of sheer heat in her hand made the returning ache between her legs spike to profound proportions. If she had still been wearing knickers, they would've been soaked through.

Feeling slightly more confident now that her hand was wrapped around him, she tentatively stroked him through the thin material. Using her hand, she tried to estimate his dimensions with touch alone. Judging by the fevered spike of his breathing, he approved of her studious investigation.

After a thorough analysis, she was ready to confirm her hypothesis and turned to face him. His eyes were closed but she knew that he was keenly aware of her gaze. "Severus?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you take these off? I'd like to see all of you."

His lip quirked again as he opened his eyes and shimmied out of his boxers, dropping them to the floor beside the bed.

Hermione's gaze was drawn down to the unveiled flesh like a magnet. Before her laid the wizard that she had been fantasizing about for nearly a year, naked as the day he was born. He was quite the sight to behold. His erection was angled towards his stomach, thick and impossibly hard, the skin a ruddy shade of pink in contrast to his pale thighs and the dark nestle of fine hair at the base. She knew that she should probably feel intimidated by the sheer size of him but her reaction leaned more towards fascination.

Reaching out her hand again, she traced the thin strip of hair from his navel all the way down to the fountainhead. She then ghosted her fingertips up the unencumbered length of him, following the thick vein along the underside. He hissed at the contact and his hips bucked into her touch. Smiling, she softly caressed the ridge that circled the slightly darker head and touched the tear-shaped drop of clear fluid that perched precariously at the tip. Curious, she brought the wet finger to her mouth to taste him.

Severus, whose focus had been riveted to her inspection, nearly came undone at the sight of the virtuous little witch suckling his pre-cum from her finger. Though it was innocent inquisitiveness on her part, it was the single most seductive thing that he had ever witnessed. When her hand moved back down, intent on furthering her discovery, he encircled her wrist to stop her. She looked up questioningly and he nearly gave in and let her palm him to completion. Merlin knew that in current conditions it wouldn't take long. Steeling himself with thoughts of a payoff bigger than instant gratification, he placed her eager little hand on his stomach. "You are far more talented than you realize, pet," he growled lowly. "If I have any hope of lasting long enough to sink into this exquisite body of yours—" He trailed his free hand down her spine to the point that it met her tailbone. "—you have to cease your exploration."

Hermione blushed but was inwardly gratified by his words. She desperately wanted to watch the fastidiously-constrained wizard lose control at her touch, but she also wanted to take the next step. She had held her virginity sacred for so long — not that there had ever been a line of would-be takers — and she was more than ready to give it to the man she loved.

"Before we go any further, though," Severus said, interrupting her thoughts with a coolly efficient tone that seemed completely out of place, "there is something that I'd like to discuss with you."

"What?" she asked, propping her head up on her hand so that she could look directly in his obsidian eyes.

Severus swallowed. "I have been trying to come up with a way to broach the subject without offending you. Tact has never been a forte of mine." His fingertips continued their mindless caress of her spine as he spoke.

She searched his tense expression, suddenly feeling weary. What on earth could he possibly need to tell her that was this serious? Why now of all times? Did he have some sort of magical sexually-transmitted disease? He certainly wasn't deformed or impotent — the proof of that was leaking copiously onto his abdomen.

"There isn't a polite way to say this," he murmured somewhat regretfully. "But as a Potions Apprentice you know that some ingredients are very rare."

Hermione looked at him blankly. Why, for the love of Merlin, was he discussing potion ingredients? Her brow creased in bewilderment.

The Slytherin sighed at her expression. He had hoped that she would come to the conclusion on her own, without him having to actually propose the idea. Obviously he was wrong. Still, the opportunity wasn't presented to him every day and he couldn't just let it pass without an attempt. If she said no or was offended by the proposition, he would apologize and employ whatever skills were needed to make her forget that he had ever brought it up.

"I wanted to ask," he said after a moment of deliberation, "if you would permit me to collect whatever blood may be shed this evening."

"What? Why would there be… Oh!" Understanding came to her in degrees. When she finally realized what he was saying, her face flushed. He wanted to collect her virginal blood. She should've anticipated this. The man was a no-nonsense Potions Master and it was a rare and very valuable ingredient. The idea itself didn't really turn her off — it would just go to waste otherwise — but she did have some questions before agreeing.

"How would you do it?" she asked first, feeling that it was the most pressing concern. She didn't fancy her first time being turned into some sort of clinical fare.

"With my wand, once we're finished," he replied matter-of-factly. "I've never personally done it but have studied the theory. It will be painless and I doubt that you'll even notice. I didn't want to do so without your permission though."

She nodded, wondering how long he had been planning for this eventuality. Pushing the thought away, she asked, "What do you plan on doing with it?"

"I don't have a specific application in mind," he said. "I was thinking that you may wish to use it yourself at some point. It would be more powerful in something that you brew than anything that I made, though it would react better for me, as the procurer, than someone uninvolved. Blood magic is finicky."

"So you're not going to sell it or let some third-year use it to blow up their cauldron?" she asked in reply, visibly relieved.

Severus was taken aback. "Did you think as much?" She gave a slight shrug and he scowled. "I know that I'm not overtly romantic or sentimental, but do give me some credit, Hermione. What we are discussing here is priceless in my eyes, not because of its monetary worth but because it is a part of you. Do not for a moment think that I am doing this lightly." He gathered the witch to him, pressing her petite frame against his own. "No one has ever given me what you have and I cherish it above all else."

Somewhere amidst his admonishment they had stopped talking about bodily fluids or even her virginity and had begun to discuss something much more deeply-rooted. Her heart swelled and a tear fell from the corner of her eye to land on his chest as she hugged him tightly. "I love you, Severus," she breathed against the scarred flesh beneath her.

The wizard was silent for a moment before he drew her gaze upward with a hand beneath her chin. When she met his eyes his hand slid to her cheek and cupped it. "I love you, too," he replied, his voice no more than whisper.

Hermione's breathing shuddered to a stop at his response. Judging by what she knew of his past, it was likely the first time that he had ever told anyone that he loved them other than his mother when he was a very young boy. She didn't know if she wanted to cry or snog the man senseless. He pulled her to his lips and she settled for doing both simultaneously.

They stayed that way for some time, both physically and emotionally bare in the candlelight. Severus kissed her until her tears dried and continued to kiss her until the fire in her belly was an inferno again. Turning on his side, he slid his hand down between their tangled bodies to the source of the flame.

"Severus," Hermione gasped as his fingers started to tease her in the most extraordinary way, "is there a sound barrier spell down here?" She didn't trust herself to remain quiet.

"Mmhmm," he breathed as his toyed her earlobe between his teeth. "You were screeching to the heavens a bit ago and a rescue party has yet to beat down my door so it seems to have held."

"I screeched?" she asked in surprise, heat suffusing her chest and face. She hadn't been aware of making any noise other than pleading with him beforehand. If she had been vocal, that would at least explain why her throat still felt tender.

"Yes," he replied and pulled back briefly from his besiege on her neck to see the blush coloring her cheeks. He smirked and removed his hand from her sex to brush a wayward curl from her line of sight. "Don't be embarrassed. The sound of you coming undone was music to my ears."

Despite his intention to the contrary, his words were mortifying. She was sure that she must have sounded like a Banshee seeing how the noise had been purely subconscious. She hid her face with her arm. She heard him chuckle and felt him dip in closer again before he spoke.

"Those sounds are for my ears only, pet. No one will hear you scream out my name in ecstasy but me." His voice was thick with lust as his hand slithered back between her legs to graze the jumble of nerves with a knuckle, earning a guttural moan from the little witch. "And you _will_ scream my name," he promised in a darkly-velveteen whisper.

The girl visibly shivered and he began to work his fingers in earnest against her intimate flesh. Within moments he had led her to the edge of bliss and reveled in throwing her off the ravine. She came hard against his hand, her nails digging painfully into the sinewy muscles surrounding his shoulders. She did indeed gasp out his name in staccato and he groaned at the sound. "That's it, love. Just like that."

Just as her lithe body started to settle its trembling, he waged assault on her nerve endings again and pulled another orgasm from her core. As she babbled incoherently, he bodily rearranged them on the mattress so that she was lying flat and he was kneeling between her bent knees. He rubbed the back of her thighs as he watched her recovery with interest.

Abstractly, Hermione felt like she was comprised solely of limp noodles after the dark wizard's attention, her nether regions pulsating in time with her racing heart. She was aware that he had moved them on the bed and could feel his erection grazing lightly against the wet curls of her sex. She looked up at him towering above her. Her vision was still hazy from her recent climax and yet his heated gaze could've guided her out of the thickest fog. Unspoken thoughts and emotions seem to pass between them at the speed of light. Without breaking the contact, he touched the tip of his wand to her lower abdomen and began to trace an intricate design directly above her pubic bone. She gasped as a sudden icy sensation froze her insides and then faded again as quickly as it began.

"Contraceptive spell," he muttered, answering her unspoken question. "I have no desire to see any pint-sized know-it-alls running around here anytime soon."

The Gryffindor giggled despite the gravity of the moment, remembering Harry's words earlier that evening about snarky, bushy-haired babies. Thoughts of offspring and her best friend as well as her laughter died away as the man spread her lower lips with cool fingers to reveal his intended target. She was acutely aware that she was dripping wet and suspected that the blanket beneath her bum would soon be saturated. She also knew that no amount of lubrication or desire would protect her from the pain of this initial experience. With his size, it was probably going to hurt a lot. Oddly the notion didn't register as fear. She was eager to get the unpleasantness over with so that she could enjoy the wizard's closeness. Holding on to that aspiration, she willed her muscles to relax and allow him entrance with the least amount of resistance possible.

Severus took his erection in hand and lined himself up with her slick entrance. He had pulled out all the stops to prime the little witch as best he could, reigning in the demands of his own libido in the process. He couldn't remember ever being so hard or in such desperate need of release, but he was determined to make this as easy as possible for her and knew that the way to do that was not to pound her up against the headboard like he wanted to at that moment.

Arching his back, he bent low in order to slide his arms beneath her shoulder blades and cradle the girl's head in his hands without losing his mark. Placing his mouth on hers, he rocked his hips forward at a glacial pace and pierced her for the first time with agonizing care. He managed to get about a third of his length sheathed in her unfathomably-tight warmth before she whimpered against his lips. He stalled all movement immediately and pulled back to study her expression. Her eyes were shut tightly and her brow was crinkled in an obvious mixture of pain and determination. A single tear had leaked from the corner of her right eye and its path down her soft cheek glistened in the candlelight. He was torn nearly in two by the sight — half of him crushed by the knowledge that he was causing her injury and desperate to repair the damage, the other half jubilant at the feel of her body swaddling him so deliciously. Above all he was in awe that she would give herself to him so freely, despite the pain that it was costing her.

"I'm okay," she said when he didn't resume movement, her voice coming out in a squeak. She took a deep breath and he felt her internal muscles relax to a miniscule degree. "Just go slow."

He dropped his head and peppered her collarbone with languid kisses, mentally marveling at her fortitude. If men had to endure what women did for the sake of sex or procreation, the world's population would've stunted itself into nonexistence long ago. Moving his mouth up the column of her neck, he began to shift his hips again, sinking by millimeters into the snug cavern of her flesh.

When he had finally encased himself fully in her heat, he stopped again to allow her body time to adjust to the intrusion. Her muscles undulated around his shaft and he continued to kiss and nuzzle her neck, lapping at any trace of salt that had fallen from her eyes. She hadn't sobbed or cried out but had taken the pain stoically, the evidence of tears her only complaint. His fierce little lioness.

When he reached the shell of her ear, he whispered husky words of praise and encouragement. "You did wonderfully, Hermione. And you feel more amazing than I ever dreamt possible."

Her small hands came up and threaded through his hair at the nape of his neck. He suckled the sensitive spot of skin behind her ear for a moment and then began to move his lower body in short, slow waves, coaxing her sore muscles to bend to his ministrations. "Open your eyes," he requested silkily against the juncture of her jaw. "I want to see the spark the moment that the pleasure eclipses the pain."

She did as he asked and his dark eyes bored into hers as he continued the steady rhythm deep inside her. His gaze was burning her again, flaying her wide open to devour her soul. This was the connection that she had been yearning for; the intimate closeness that she had desired since the wizard had begun to appear in her dreams.

As the searing pain began to lessen to mere discomfort under his piercing scrutiny, she dimly registered an odd magical disturbance surrounding their conjoined bodies. In her peripheral vision, she could see thin bands of white and gray light weaving themselves in a tapestry of sorts over top of them. The image was somewhat fuzzy and indistinct, almost like a mirage in the desert.

The spectacle intrigued her but Godric Gryffindor himself could've levitated into the room at that very moment to offer her a cup of tea and her eyes wouldn't have left the Potions Master's face. She had never seen him so intensely vulnerable. The more she looked, the more she realized what the change was that she was witnessing in his coal black eyes. His heart was fully open and he was inviting her in — offering up the whole of him, flaws and all, for the taking. In that moment, surrounded by an inexplicable light display, he was giving her the equivalent of what she was giving him and the sentiment made her want to cry again.

Holding back the deluge of tears in an effort to keep this new, unguarded Severus with her a bit longer, she unfurled her fingers from his hair. She grasped his shoulder with one hand and cupped his slightly-stubbled cheek with the other, letting him know that she was fully present in the moment. Fire spiked in his eyes at her touch but he kept his rhythm within her slow and steady. Despite the niggling discomfort, her body was welcoming his thrusts like it had always been meant to do. They were a part of a dance as old as time itself.

Severus got to see the change in her melted chocolate orbs that he had been seeking as the witch let out the first quiet moan of pleasure. Given enough time and endurance, he could've brought her full circle, from the tears of pain to the cries of passion, but knew that he'd never be able to last that long. It had been ages since he had been with a woman and this experience had both emotionally charged and physically taxing. The restraint that he had had to employ thus far had nearly broken him. He could already feel the stirrings of an imminent orgasm.

A few brief moments later, when the girl's inner muscles rippled around him and her hips rose slightly to meet his next thrust, he knew that he was a goner. He managed a few more less-than-graceful strokes before finding his completion deep within her warmth, her name pulled from his chest in a raspy growl of satisfaction.

He hung his head for a moment, his forehead resting on hers and his hair falling like a black curtain around them, utterly spent. The fact that he would crush her small body was the only thing that kept his arms from giving out completely. Needing to assure himself that she was okay, he pulled back far enough to kiss her. She met his mouth with fervor, seeming to pour her heart through their combined lips, and he accepted all of her.

Hermione kissed the wizard with all the love and passion that she possessed. She hadn't climaxed but had been given so much more in exchange. She was emotionally sated and full. As he withdrew from her mouth and sat back on his knees, she could feel his softening erection ease out of her. Once they were separated, the indistinct lights that had danced around them dissipated like candle smoke in a breeze.

"What was that?" she asked, allowing her curiosity to rear itself now that their connection had been broken.

"That was sex," he replied wryly, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "I know I made you wait an interminably long time, but I would've thought that that much was obvious." He grabbed his wand and wordlessly summoned two potion vials from his desk in the study — one full and one empty.

If she had had any spare energy whatsoever, she might have thrown a pillow at him. "Not that, silly. The magic."

He looked down at her in surprise. "Has no one ever told you about wizarding sex before?"

"I… well… no," she replied, confused by his question. "I mean I had _the talk_ with mum years ago but she obviously never mentioned a light show."

He blinked. What she was describing was a normal part of life in the magical world, something that everyone was taught early on. Dumbledore had never deemed it necessary to institute a sexual education class at the school and Poppy only had that particular conversation with students that came to her in search of contraception. Otherwise the matter had always been left to the parents to explain, but her parents were Muggles and she had remained a virgin throughout her entire school career. Of course she didn't know. Damn.

"Just a moment," he said, feeling slightly wrong-footed as he used his wand to siphon the smear of blood off himself and from her folds and inner passage. It neatly separated itself from the other bodily fluids and collected in the open vial in his hand. He corked the glass container and held it up to the light for inspection. It was a perfect specimen. Using his wand once more, he cleaned them both of any remaining mess before finally laying down beside the girl. He sat the crimson vial on the nightstand as she snuggled into his bare chest.

"Here. Drink this," he said, holding the second vial that he had summoned in her line of sight. The liquid was more of a clear amber color with the candlelight reflecting against the glass.

Hermione took the potion from him and twirled it in her fingers. She couldn't readily identify it from sight alone. "What's it for?"

"It's a mild pain reliever. It will take away the soreness but won't try to restore the tissue. For this situation healing would be counterproductive."

She snorted and downed the viscous liquid in one gulp. It tasted vaguely of rosehips and honey and she was fairly sure that it was one of the man's own concoctions. She passed the empty vial back to him and curled into his side again. He was always so thoughtful — a trait that was completely at odds with his public persona. "Thank you, Severus," she said quietly, already feeling the medicinal elixir taking effect.

He accepted her gratitude with a little grunt and placed the container on the table. He flicked his wand again and the bed covers slid out from beneath them to fall softly over their prone forms. She had just begun to feel a chill, naked as she was, and burrowed further down in the blanket before kissing his pectoral muscle in appreciation.

Severus sighed contentedly and wrapped his arm around the witch's back and over her waist, tucking her in against him. He hadn't slept in the same bed with another person in a very long time and had never particularly cared for the practice. He never seemed to sleep well with someone else breathing all over him. After his recent exertion, however, he doubted that the petite woman would keep him from rest. The light scent of jasmine wafted over him as she readjusted her curls and he thought that perhaps having her near could actually prove enjoyable.

"So you were going to explain the light show," she prompted after the wizard had been silent for a while.

"Ah." He trailed his fingertips over the soft skin on her side as he contemplated an explanation. "When two magical beings have intercourse," he began in a tone reserved for teaching dense children about potion properties, earning a sleepy giggle from Hermione, "their fundamental magic combines to ensure that the product of their coupling is infused with both partners' essence."

"You mean a baby?" She couldn't stifle the large yawn that followed the question. It felt like ages since she had slept properly and the pain reliever that he had given her was making her feel pleasantly fuzzy.

The Slytherin nodded. "It happens regardless if you use contraception or not and ends when the physical connection is broken. The _light show_ , as you described it, is usually only noticeable when either partner's virginity is taken. After tonight, you'll be able to feel the magic's presence but likely won't see it again."

Despite her tired state, Hermione was riveted. His explanation made sense but she couldn't believe that no one had ever told her about the phenomenon. Ginny had lost her virginity ages ago and they had discussed sex in depth on several occasions, especially when they had been trying to devise a plan to seduce the man beside her. She had also read endless articles in Lavender and Parvati's silly magazines that had discussed everything from Kegel spells to successful threesomes but had never come across a single mention of magic fusion. She frowned. "So the threads of light were a manifestation of our magical cores? I wish that I had paid more attention."

"I take it as a compliment that you couldn't."

She blushed slightly. "Well I was certainly absorbed in the main event, but it seems inopportune that a once in a lifetime occurrence happens during another once in a lifetime occurrence."

He smirked. "I'm sorry. There are other ways to duplicate the display but I'm afraid that they are all slightly sinister in nature."

The former Head Girl yawned again. "No, it's okay. It just took me by surprise." She thought about the glimpses of the magic that she had caught from the corner of her eye. "How come there were two different shades of light?"

"One was yours and one was mine," he replied, stifling his own yawn. It felt incredibly late. "My magical aura is more tainted that yours because of the darkness in my past."

Hermione marveled at his matter-of-fact tone. They had come a long way for him to be able to say such a thing without any discernible inflection of bitterness or self-castigation. Perhaps she had finally gotten it through to him that she accepted and forgave him for whatever sins he thought made him irredeemable. Not wanting to draw attention to his possibly subconscious surrender, she refrained from commenting directly, instead saying, "It was pretty."

Severus didn't reply and after a moment passed without another question, he assumed her curiosity was, for the time being, sated. He extinguished the candles in the room with a wave of his hand and closed the door to his study. "Sleep now, pet," he murmured and kissed the crown of the girl's head. "I'm an old man and you've worn me out."

"You are _not_ old, Severus," she chided sleepily, exhaustion already trying to pull her under. He tightened his grip around her waist and she heard him breathe a single word, more to himself than anything, before she succumbed to sleep completely.

" _Mine_."

Consciousness washed over Hermione in waves when she awoke. Her first fully-formed thought was that she was not in her own bed. As the grogginess of deep sleep clung to her relentlessly, she forced her eyes open. The room was unnaturally dark, save for a few dying embers in the fireplace across from her. She experienced a brief moment of panic until her sleep-addled brain caught the sound of gentle snoring to her left. The obvious presence of another person — a decidedly _male_ person — jogged her memories, reminding her where she was and how, exactly, she had ended up there. With a smile she looked over at the wizard. In sleep they had become slightly separated on the large mattress and he was curled onto his side, facing her. Though he was little more than a long shadow, the sight of him, so peaceful and relaxed in sleep, made her feel safe and comforted.

She cast her gaze around the room again, marveling at how much darker the dark was in the dungeons. She had no way of knowing what time it was or how long they had slept. Her bladder, however, was insisting that it had been a long time, too long. She desperately needed to pee.

Carefully folding back her half of the blankets and slipping off the side of the bed so as not to disturb him, she padded her way to the door that they had come through the previous night. The room was freezing, even though it was the middle of summer, and her complete lack of clothing wasn't helping matters. Feeling her way like a blind person, she finally found the door and cracked it open. Light spilled in through the fissure. They had left all the candles ablaze in their earlier haste to reach the bedroom. She creaked the heavy door open a few inches and glanced back cautiously at the bed. The lump under the covers that defined Severus' position was illuminated to about waist high and thankfully hadn't moved. Outstretching her hand through the opening, she wordlessly called her wand. It was the only bit of wandless magic that she had been able to master thus far. Despite the fact that Snape made it look effortless, performing even the most mundane of spells without a way to channel one's magic was incredibly difficult.

There was a rustle as the length of wood extracted itself from her balled up robes on the couch and then sailed neatly into her open palm. Flicking it twice into the study, she summoned her camisole and doused the candlelight before shutting the door quietly.

With a murmured, "Lumos," a small portion of the bedchamber was revealed by the pinprick of light at the tip of her wand. Nervously, she glanced at the bed's occupant again and was grateful to find him still fast asleep — there was no telling what type of mood the irascible man would be in if awoken abruptly. She quickly located her discarded knickers, crossed the room to the loo, and shut herself inside before igniting the lights.

She made a beeline for the toilet and then peered around at her surroundings as she relieved herself. The bathroom was the same rough dimensions and layout as her own upstairs. The floor tiles and vanity top were made of a dark glossy stone but the mat, towels, and shower curtain were all starkly white, a perfect match to the bed linens. Otherwise the small lavatory was nondescript though meticulously clean. The counter was free of personal grooming items and there wasn't a single loose hair in the shower or sink basin. As organized as she was herself, her bathroom was the one place that always seemed cluttered.

Hermione finished her ablutions and moved to the sink, unable to resist peeking into the private man's medicine cabinet. A black comb and a magical razor sat on the bottom shelf and the rest of the space was filled with potions vials, precisely arranged in alphabetical order with neatly-lettered labels all facing front. The contents were the type of thing that one would expect to find in a Potions Master's bathroom — headache reliever, cough suppressant, Pepperup, and Dreamless Sleep — and the orderliness of the whole affair reminded her of his private laboratory. She smiled to herself and closed the cabinet with a soft click before peering at her reflection in the mirror.

She looked like she had had the life shagged out of her, which, she supposed, she had. Her hair was knotted into a giant rat's nest at the back of her head and there was a bit of redness along her jaw where the wizard's stubble had abraded her skin. Despite her disheveled appearance, she didn't seem fundamentally altered. She wasn't sure what she had expected to see but she felt as if she had been systematically broken apart from the inside out and put back together and was somehow surprised that nothing was visible in her reflection.

With a loud yawn she shook herself from her silly musings and put her satin ensemble back on, taking the time to cast a cleansing charm over her soiled knickers. She rinsed her face with warm water from the tap and used her wand to freshen her mouth and subdue her matted and gnarled curls into a semblance of a bun, lest it get worse when she went back to bed.

At the thought of additional sleep, she paused. It was likely somewhere in the wee hours of morning. If school was still in session, she'd be worried about getting back to her rooms before anyone was the wiser to her whereabouts, but classes were out for the summer and she had graduated. She wasn't breaking any rules, real or implied, by being in a professor's bedchambers and she doubted that anyone would notice that her bed hadn't been slept in anyway. Should she just crawl in and reclaim her position next to Severus? She had immensely enjoyed falling asleep in his arms and for the first time in recollection, had had no issue whatsoever passing out in an unfamiliar bed. With an unconscious smile at what that reaction might imply, she doused the bathroom lights and crept silently out the door.

When Hermione stepped back into the bedroom, she was startled to find the fire blazing, every candle lit, and the obviously disgruntled Potions Master awake and sitting semi-upright against the headboard. Their eyes met across the room and his brow arched sardonically.

"Does this _beast_ belong to you?"

Thrown by the question, her gaze sought a familiar ball of orange fluff curled up at the end of the bed between the wizard's blanketed feet. "Crookshanks?" she squeaked in surprise, crossing the stone tiles at a quick clip.

The cat raised its squashed face, gave a sleepy meow of greeting, and tucked its head back into its belly as if nothing was amiss.

"How the devil did he get in here?" she asked, her questioning gaze moving back up to the put-out looking man.

"I haven't a clue. The bloody hairball woke me up by pouncing on my head and then curled up down there like it owns the place," Severus replied, scowling at the mangy thing. "It's damn lucky that I didn't hex it into oblivion."

Hermione scratched the wayward cat behind the ears and sat down beside the wizard's hips on his side of the bed. "I'm sorry, Severus. I guess he was looking for me. He kind of comes and goes as he pleases."

"That doesn't explain how he got in _here_. All of my wards are still in place. Does he know how to use the Floo?"

She made a face. "Is that even possible? It's not like he can announce his destination."

The Slytherin scowled at the mongrel again as it rolled over and exposed its furry underside, obviously wanting attention. "Does it have any magical abilities?"

Hermione petted the feline's belly absently. "For the most part he acts like a normal housecat, but Sirius used to tell me that he was highly intelligent."

Severus snorted derisively. "Black was hardly an adequate judge of intellect."

She ignored the jibe at the dead Animagus. "Do you want me to take him back to my chambers?"

"I don't want _you_ to go anywhere," he intoned, grazing the outside of her bare thigh with his knuckle.

She grinned despite the sudden heat in her cheeks. She felt slightly awkward after what they had done earlier in the night but she had no desire to leave yet. "I don't want to just chuck him into the Floo and hope for the best."

"Want me to stun him first?" He was kidding, of course. For the most part.

Sticking her tongue out at the man, she stood and gathered the sleeping familiar in her arms. "I'll just put him out in the corridor."

Hermione carried Crookshanks through the darkened study and deposited him out in the hallway. He mewled his displeasure and turned accusatory golden eyes on her. She squatted down in the doorway to rub his ears. "I'm sorry, Crooks. Go find something to eat in the kitchens and then go back to our rooms. I'll come see you in the morning." The half-Kneazle mewed again and then sauntered off. She had no idea how he had managed to get into the professor's bedchamber but he had been maneuvering about the castle for years. She had never questioned how he managed to do the things that he did.

Shrugging at the now empty hallway, she shut the door and padded barefoot back to the bedroom. Severus' gaze was on her as soon as she appeared, burning into her with that fire-hot intensity. "All sorted?" He beckoned her towards him with a single long finger, belying his complete disinterest in the matter.

"I… Yes," she stammered a bit sheepishly under his heated appraisal. "I can't promise that he won't come back, though."

She reached the side of the bed and his arms snaked out and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her onto him and effectively ending any discussion of her wayward cat. She landed against his bare chest with a soft oomph and his mouth immediately sought hers. As she melted into his kiss, she could feel the wizard's wand arm leave her waist and twitch at her side. The next second she felt a breeze across her bum that hadn't been there a moment before. She pulled back from the man's mouth and looked down at herself.

"Severus!" she yelped in protest. He had vanished her clothes, leaving her completely starkers again. The sneaky bastard.

He chuckled darkly at her look of indignation and reached up to unwind her chaotic curls, efficiently undoing all of her earlier efforts to make herself look presentable. He preferred her this way, naked and wild looking — it seemed to awake something primal inside him. "You have no need for sleepwear here, pet. No matter how alluring it may be."

He pulled her back to his mouth and thrust his hips upward to prove his point. Even beneath the bedcovers his erection was obvious as he ground it against her now-bare core. The witch groaned and he pushed her back slightly so that he could evaluate her expression. "Are you still in pain?"

With a wicked smile she wiggled her hips — rubbing herself against him shamelessly in the process — as if in contemplation of an answer. "Not a bit. Your potion seems to have been effective. Well done you."

In the blink of an eye, Severus flipped the girl over, sprawling her onto her back across the mattress, and covered her small frame with his much larger one, naked flesh to naked flesh. He buried his nose in her hair and his mouth against the skin under her ear. "Cheeky little witch," he groused hotly. "You deserve detention for such insolence."

Hermione snickered. If this was his new definition of detention, she was quickly going to become the most incorrigible student that he ever had. The man's mouth should come with a warning label. She turned her head to give him better access and from the vantage point she could clearly make out the silver frame on the bedside table that she had nearly forgotten about. Her brow furrowed. "Severus?"

"Hmm?" he murmured absently against her neck.

"Is it a Slytherin requirement to keep a photograph of a snake next to your bed?"

The wizard glanced up and a smirk crossed his lips when he saw what she was referring to. He summoned his wand and then the picture in question. The frame was heavy looking — probably made of actual sterling silver — but was plain without lavish adornment. The photo inside was of a coiled serpent in a bed of tall grass and underbrush; its triangular head raised and poised to strike. It didn't move like most magical photographs but the snake's bared fangs seemed to glitter ominously in the flickering firelight.

As she looked on, Severus waved his wand over the frame in a complex arrangement and whispered her name, of all weird things, under his breath.

The picture of the serpent melted away to reveal the snapshot of herself that Draco had taken all those months ago, tarted up as she was in Slytherin pajamas. Hermione watched in awe as the little image blew the onlookers a kiss. She had given this to Snape the morning that they had gone to the Ministry, more out of an effort to unsettle him than anything else. Its siblings were packed away in her trunk with her other belongings. She had nearly forgotten about their existence. The fact that he had not only kept the picture this whole time but that he had framed it and given it a place of honor beside his bed where he could look at it as he drifted off to sleep at night caused her heart to swell.

Unsure how to adequately translate her emotional reaction into words, she wrapped her arms around his neck and attacked his lips instead. He made her feel special at every turn and she hoped to convey how much his gestures meant to her.

Before long the pair's magic was entwined again. Without the sting of pain, the melding of their bodies was the single most physically gratifying sensation Hermione had ever experienced. Their coupling this time was not slow and calculated but passion-filled and frenzied. The wizard bent and aligned her petite body into a myriad of positions, taking her at angles that made her see stars. She cried out his name so many times that it lost all meaning as she succumbed to climax after climax under his skillful ministrations. By the time he gasped out her name, filling her with his release, she felt barely tethered to reality. She had been astride him at the apex and collapsed slack-jawed onto his chest, their bodies both slick with perspiration, upon completion. They lay in a sweaty, crumpled pile for several minutes, neither being able to move.

Once he had regained a modicum of energy, Severus rolled the little witch onto the mattress beside him, cast a cleansing charm over them both, and covered them with the duvet. He turned and molded himself along the contours of her back, effectively _spooning_ for the first time in his life. Despite the fact that her unruly hair would likely strangle him in his sleep, the position was quite satisfactory. He cupped her breast with a callused palm and the sated pair fell fast asleep without another word.

Severus sat on the edge of the bed and studied the woman as she slept, moved both by the sight and the recollections of the last twelve hours. She had ended up on her stomach in the middle of the night, her arms cradling the pillow under her head, the dense tangle of curls swept over one shoulder. Her lashes were incredibly long and dark against the skin of her cheek. The blankets had been kicked down to reveal the creamy expanse of her lower back and the swell at the top of her arse. In sleep she appeared impossibly young and carefree.

He had, of course, watched the girl sleep on several occasions, most recently after she had exhausted herself with obsessive exam revision and had passed out atop a tottering pile of books in his office, but never in his bed after a night of intense lovemaking. She was beautiful, far too pure for the likes of him, and now unequivocally _his_. The subtle distinction caused a tightness in the vicinity of his heart.

He wanted to leave her right where she was, tangled in his bed sheets and imbibing his pillows with her scent, but he knew that he had to wake her. People were surely aware that she had returned to the castle and if she didn't make an appearance in the Great Hall, there would be talk. He had business to attend to as well and didn't think that she would take his unannounced departure kindly.

He ran the back of his hand down the downy softness of her cheek and said her name softly. She didn't so much as twitch. He called to her again, louder this time, but received the same response. Smirking he stood to his full height and smoothed the wrinkles from his robes before barking, "Miss Granger!" in his most feared authoritative tone.

The witch's reaction was even better than he had anticipated. She jumped nearly a foot, spinning around practically in midair to face him with wide, panicked eyes like he had caught her pilfering potion ingredients from his stores. She didn't even seem aware that her entire torso was bared for his rather-delighted visual consumption.

"What?" she screeched. "What's wrong? Where's Harry?"

Well that took a bit of wind out of his sails — the mention of the whelp who had survived by the skin of his teeth. It made sense, though. The witch had been in one scrape after another with the boy since they had first met. He himself had had similar reactions over the years, always assuming that Potter was involved whenever shit had hit the fan.

"I would assume London," he replied calmly, trying his best to smile at the startled woman. "Though the Burrow is a fair guess as well."

She blinked half a dozen times in rapid succession and he could actually see the realization dawn over her features, exaggerated as the progression was in her sleepy state. He had to bite back a laugh, suspecting that it would be a step too far. Ever since their relationship had progressed past student and teacher, she had lost any reservations that she had once had about chastising him or firing harmless hexes his way when really frustrated. While her emboldened behavior had been a big adjustment for him — most people were far too intimidated to respond to his attitude in such ways — he had learned that she punished herself over such instances far more than he ever would. She always ended up apologizing profusely, sometimes in tears, not out of fear of his wrath but because she genuinely cared for him. In turn, he tried his best to curb his more caustic tendencies where she was concerned.

"You scared me!" Hermione accused, glaring at the fully-dressed wizard. She suddenly felt extremely exposed in comparison and drug the comforter up over her bare breasts.

He smirked. "I tried to wake you nicely. You were sleeping like the dead."

The Gryffindor rolled her eyes. "What time is it? Why are you dressed already?"

"The Headmaster has called a staff meeting for seven. It is nearly a quarter 'til now. And as much as I fancy the thought of you remaining naked in my bed until I return," he touched her cheek gently, letting his fingers trail down her jaw, "I think it best for you to make an appearance at breakfast."

Her brow creased, latching onto the problematic portion of his statement which had immediately overshadowed the flirtation. "Why did Dumbledore call a meeting so early? Classes are finished. Does he know that I spent the night here? Is that what he wants to discuss? Is that why I wasn't asked to attend?"

"Breathe, Hermione," Severus said, interrupting the girl's mildly-hysterical rant. She was going to hyperventilate, teetering on the brink of panic as she was, for absolutely no reason. "We do this every year. It's the last meeting before the break and it's held early because the majority of the staff leave for the summer. Your presence isn't required because it will be a long and tedious rehashing of the past term. No one will be discussing where you slept last night, I assure you."

The tension slowly faded from her shoulders and her eyes returned to their normal — albeit enchanting — dimensions. Regrettably, he needed to pass on one more bit of news that was likely to be startling. "For the sake of full disclosure," he continued, imbuing his tone with tenderness aimed at softening the blow as much as possible, "Albus is likely aware of your location and the reason behind it."

"What? How? Oh my gods, the Floo! I knew it. I thought about it last night but I didn't care at the time. I wanted to see you as quickly as possible but… oh gods."

"Calm down, woman," he snapped and then pinched the bridge of his nose to stifle his agitation. He really needed some caffeine. "It was not your doing. I went to the Headmaster yesterday and informed him of our courtship."

Her mouth literally fell open. "You… Really?"

He nodded curtly. "Since you have graduated, I wanted everything to be on the up and up. He is my employer and yours in essence now as well."

Hermione knew that the elderly wizard was more to the man than just a boss. For Snape, informing Dumbledore was akin to telling his parents — a feat that she herself had yet to brave. It made her confession to Harry and Ron look far less substantial in comparison. She smiled up at him and crooked her finger in his direction, beckoning him to come closer. He sat at her side and she leaned in to snog him soundly. Passion flared through their connection as quickly as it had the night before.

"So how did he take the news?" she asked when they reluctantly drew apart several kisses later. Unfortunately they didn't have the time to get carried away just then.

"He was insufferably twinkly and smug. Apparently he won a bet with Minerva."

She felt her jaw drop a second time right before a great guffaw shook through her. It was too obtuse for words. For months she had been dreading the Headmaster and her Head of House's reactions to learning of her Snape's relationship, anticipating disapproval and disappointment at the very least, and they had been gossiping behind their backs and placing wagers all along. She couldn't wrap her mind around it.

"Pair of meddling old fools," Severus muttered dismissively over the girl's histrionics. He had paced a rut in his office floor trying to summon the nerve to tell the old man that he had been dallying with the wizarding world's favorite daughter. In response Albus had had the nerve to ask him if they had discussed marriage yet, hinting that Hogwarts would be an ideal location for such festivities. "This is what you've pledged the next two years of your life to. You will never know another moment's peace in this dratted castle."

Hermione snorted. "I pledged the next two years to _you_ , Severus, and in doing so, I knowingly waived all rights to peace." She grinned at the man's scowl. "I'm glad that they know and know that we know that they know. I didn't fancy the prospect of sneaking around for the foreseeable future."

His eyes narrowed slightly as he tried to riddle out who knew what exactly. He gave up with a sigh. "Don't expect such a ridiculously warm reception from everyone. The general public will have my head."

She shook her head and kissed the Slytherin again. "I'm not worried about _everyone_ but our closest acquaintances' acceptance is nice. I told Harry and Ron on the train yesterday."

A smug expression crossed his features as if he had been proven right about a source of contention. "I suspected that you might. I added extra wards on my chambers in case Potter decided to be chivalrous."

She smirked, not knowing if he was being serious or sarcastic — it was always a thin line with him. "A needless precaution. They took it better than anticipated."

He personally couldn't have cared less about what her cohorts thought of him or his involvement with their friend but he knew how much their opinions meant to her. He also knew that deceiving them all term had taken its toll on her. A Gryffindor through and through, she didn't handle lies and covert secrecy well, no matter that it had been the wiser course of action given the circumstances. The subterfuge had eaten away at her like a festering curse. For her sake, a reprieve from the guilt that she had been carrying was welcome.

"Good," was all he managed to say in reply before his pocket watch chimed its interruption. He stood and adjusted his cuffs. "I must go. I will see you at breakfast in an hour." He stooped and captured her mouth in a parting kiss before striding towards the door. He looked back at her and pointed to a spot near the hearth. "Please take _that_ with you when you leave."

He slipped out the room and Hermione peered over the end of the bed at the place that he had indicated. Crookshanks was curled up fast asleep on the Potions Master's trousers that had been discarded the night before. She giggled and flopped back on the mattress, intent on enjoying the warmth of the man's bed for a bit longer before starting her day.


	28. Chapter 28

A/N: Another quick M-rating-worthy scene in this chapter.

* * *

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT**

 _A Few Months Later_

"Do you have any earrings I can borrow?" Ginny asked in a raised voice.

"In the box on my desk," Hermione called from the bathroom. She was standing in front of the mirror, trying to wrestle one last rebellious curl into submission.

Pinning the wayward strands with a handy sticking spell, she sat her wand on the vanity and appraised her reflection. She was actually impressed with the image that stared back at her. She looked good — older and more sophisticated somehow — with her hair swept up. Understated color on her eyelids and a light coat of mascara on her lashes made her pupils look twice as large as normal. The ruby-adorned antique hair combs that Lucius had brought her back from Paris were tucked into her glossy curls, the jewels shimmering in the light as she turned her head to examine each angle.

Her gown perfectly matched the rubies, a hue somewhere between crimson and burgundy. It was the fanciest thing that she had ever owned and the most expensive that she had ever purchased for herself. The Galleons had been well worth it though, she decided, as she turned to critique her profile. The silky fabric hugged all the right curves and flared at all the best places. The only concession that she had had to make was that the angle of neckline had required her to use a small glamour to conceal the scar that ran between her breasts. Still, she loved it and couldn't wait for her date to see it.

"Can I wear the dangly golden snitch ones?" the redhead asked loudly from the other room. "Why do you even have snitch earrings?"

Hermione smirked at her reflection and went to join the younger witch. She glanced down at the open box on the desk. Its contents were strewn across the tabletop. She picked up the earrings in question and handed them to Ginny. "Ron gave them to me for Christmas the year before last. He was so proud of himself."

Ginny snorted as she looped the gold wire into her earlobes. "What an idiot."

"Yes, but a well-meaning one," the older girl replied as she returned the rest of the pieces to the jewelry box. With a fond smile she slid her retired Head Girl badge back into its velvet-lined compartment. She hadn't worn it since graduation, having officially swapped it for her apprenticeship emblem. Luna had been granted the title of Head Girl this year, a surprising choice that had thus far proved inspired. Meanwhile Ginny, whom everyone had thought was a shoo-in for Head Girl, had adopted Harry's position as Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain instead. Everyone was happy with the arrangement.

Earrings in place, the youngest Weasley turned to look fully at her best friend for the first time since she had emerged from the loo. "Wow," she breathed. "You look amazing, Hermione. Snape's gonna flip."

The curly-haired witch blushed at the compliment but waved it away. "What about you? Draco's going to be all over you."

Unsurprisingly, the redhead was absolutely stunning. Where Hermione was short and petite, Ginny was tall and athletically toned. She had charmed her fiery tresses into waves and pinned up the sides, leaving the bulk of them to flow freely down her back. Her gown was midnight blue. The bodice was bejeweled and the back plunged into a deep V that ended just above her tailbone. Hermione, who would never have the stature to wear such a thing, couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit envious of the girl.

"He bought the dress so he knows what it looks like. I am hoping that seeing me in it will inspire him to take it off rather quickly though," the Chaser replied with a wicked grin. "I've missed him so damn much."

Ginny's parents had flipped out and strictly forbidden her dating a Malfoy when she had first broken the news. After Draco had shown up at the Burrow every day for two weeks though, Molly and Arthur had agreed to at least have dinner with him and Lucius. The meeting of former enemies, though awkward and fairly uncomfortable for all parties, had been enough to convince the Weasleys that the pure-blood family wasn't completely evil any longer. After much debate and a lot of whining, they had finally relented and the mismatched couple had spent the rest of their summer glued together. But ever since Ginny had returned to Hogwarts for her final year and Draco had begun his classes at England's premiere wizarding university, their only contact had been through copious letters.

Before Hermione could reply, there was a sharp knock at the door. The girls exchanged a brief glance and Ginny went to answer it. From where she stood, the Muggle-born couldn't see the Potions Master but his voice was unmistakable as it filtered into the room. Familiar or not, it still sent a pleasant zing down her spine.

"Good evening, Miss Weasley," Snape said in perfunctory greeting. "Are the two of you ready?"

"Good evening, Professor," Ginny replied cordially, still slightly uncomfortable in his presence outside of the classroom. She stepped back and motioned for the wizard to follow her into the room. "I think so."

The man was wearing smart dress robes, a crisp cravat, and had his shoulder-length hair tied back at the nape of his neck with a black velvet strap. For the first time, the seventh-year could almost see why her friend was so enamored with him. Maybe. If she squinted.

"We should be leaving…" His words tapered off as his scanning eyes fell upon the older witch.

If it had been anyone other than her Potions professor, a thoroughly scary man, Ginny would have laughed at the abrupt change in his demeanor and then cooed at the positively love-struck expression on his normally harsh features. Until that very moment, she hadn't truly believed that the wizard was actually capable of returning Hermione's affection but his current countenance left no doubt.

The two stared at each other, neither moving, for what felt like ages until the redhead cleared her throat to remind them both that she was still in the room. The older girl's cheeks colored slightly as she glanced at her but it was Snape that spoke without bothering to turn around.

"Would you be so kind as to wait out in the corridor, Miss Weasley? I need to speak to Miss Granger alone for a moment."

Ginny smirked at the back of his head but bit back the cheeky reply that came to mind in lieu of preserving her Potions grade. Instead she picked up her small clutch from the sofa, scratched Crookshanks behind the ears, and quietly let herself out of the room. She had no interest in watching them snog anyway.

When the door clicked shut, Hermione's chocolate eyes slid back to the dashing wizard in front of her, familiar butterflies twirling in her stomach. With his hair pulled back and his perfectly-tailored robes, he looked like a leading man straight out of an Austen novel. She smiled up at him. "You look very handsome tonight, Severus."

His dark eyes glinted the way that they always did when she complimented him and he stalked towards her, closing the distance between them almost predatorily. Her pulse sped up in response and she tried to step backwards only to find herself thwarted by the bookshelves along the wall. She blinked and the wizard was suddenly standing over her, his long fingers at her waist, his chest barely an inch from hers. She looked up and fell heart first into his gaze.

Not one to waste time, Severus dipped his head and placed his mouth against the delectably bare skin of the witch's neck. The scent of jasmine invaded his senses. "You look ravishing, pet," he murmured into her flesh. Her pulse point jumped slightly at his words and he sucked at it languidly before moving to her earlobe. "In fact," he continued in a throaty murmur, "I'm of the mind to send Malfoy an owl telling him that we aren't coming and immediately Floo you to the dungeons instead."

Oh, but he was so damn good at making her squirm. He had honed it to an art form — his new superhero power, being able to make her wet at the speed of sound. She swallowed thickly and placed her hand on his chest to push him away. "As lovely as that sounds, we have to go. We're pretty much the guests of honor."

It had been a year, nearly to the date, since they had finalized the potion that had cured Lucius. True to character, the wealthy socialite had felt that the occasion required a celebration ball. Hermione had been thrilled when they had received the invitation, having wanted to attend a party at Malfoy Manor ever since Draco had shown her the ballroom on her very first visit to the house. She had even convinced the Headmaster to allow Ginny to leave the school in order to attend with them. The problem was that Lucius had also invited a couple hundred other people involved with the potion, including the other recipients and their families, healers from St. Mungo's, and the entire potions department of the Ministry. After seeing the guest list weeks ago, Severus had been trying to back out, having no desire to be thrust into the center of that attention maelstrom.

The wizard growled low in his throat to express his dislike of her insistence and tried to step in closer to her again. She held her ground, pushing back firmly to hold him in place. She knew that it wouldn't take much of his personal brand of persuasion to convince her to forgo the whole event. "I've been looking forward to this, Severus. Dressing up and spending the evening together outside of the castle," she said with a bit of a pout. "It's almost our anniversary too, you know."

His mouth twitched. Of course he knew that _the_ kiss — the one that had begun everything — had taken place exactly three hundred and sixty-three days ago. That night had completely altered the course of his life; he wasn't apt to forget it anytime soon. He had several well-planned surprises in store to celebrate on Monday, including an incredibly rare first edition of _Pride and Prejudice_ that had taken him ages to procure hidden in his rooms.

"Plus," Hermione added when he didn't respond, a sly grin spreading over her features, "As an incentive to get you to dance with me, I'm not wearing any knickers." She made to move past him, as if she hadn't said a word, but he grabbed her effortlessly and halted her progress.

His free hand roamed questioningly over her bum for a moment, as if to verify her claim, before he responded. "Naughty little witch. Already asking for another _detention_." His voice lowered to a seductive purr on the last word.

Her pulse immediately quickened and her cheeks grew warm. Since the first night that they had slept together, 'detention' had become a codeword of sorts between them. While still very much in the infamous 'honeymoon stage', their sex life was full of spontaneity and variety. It ranged from emotionally intimate love-making with lots of cuddling and whispered words of adoration to fast and frenzied shagging in the nearest broom cupboard and seemingly everything in between. The former Death Eater had introduced her to the delights of bondage and spanking and had encouraged her to be open-minded and to embrace all her of fantasies and desires, even the ones that scared her a bit. They had jokingly dubbed these sessions 'detention', both in homage to the endless hours of foreplay in disguise that they had shared in the first months of her apprenticeship and to Hermione's fondness for role-playing the misbehaving student to Snape's strict disciplinarian persona. Over the past few months she had developed a near-Pavlovian response to the word's use and he bloody well knew it.

Closing her eyes for a brief moment to collect herself, she slid out of the wizard's clutches and made once again for the door. She added an extra shimmy to her hips for his benefit. "Come on, Professor. It won't do for us to be late." She grinned when she heard him grumble but follow in her wake.

Ginny had been not-so-patiently waiting in the hall for what had felt like years when the chamber door finally opened and the couple emerged. She pushed off of the adjacent wall that she had been leaning against and dropped her hands. In her anxious state, she had been picking at her manicure. She glanced down and made a face; she had ruined two of the nails on her left hand. Without a word she held out her fingers to the older girl.

"Sorry," Hermione said with a slightly chagrined expression, instantly recognizing the tell-tale sign that they had made the redhead sit idle for far too long when she was already 'chomping at the bit' to get to the manor. She wordlessly repaired the girl's damaged polish with her wand.

Severus, who neither understood nor necessarily cared about the witches' exchange, ushered them both down the corridor. The formally-dressed trio garnered several curious glances as they traversed the castle but a few well-aimed sneers kept any comments or questions at bay. Once out in the moonlit grounds, they walked in silence, no one speaking until they were outside the heavy perimeter gates.

"We're due back here at midnight," the professor announced, his voice authoritative. "It was the stipulation that the Headmaster gave for allowing you to leave, Miss Weasley." He pinned his student with an unflinching gaze. He still wasn't sure how he had gotten roped into being a chaperone this evening but had a vague recollection of his sneaky apprentice asking him to do so during a moment when most of his blood had been diverted away from his brain. "If you know what's good for you," he continued with a scowl, "you will behave yourself and not make me track you down when the time comes to leave."

The girl shook her head sharply, sending her fiery tresses flying all around her. "No sir," she squeaked. "I really appreciate you allowing me to go tonight."

He nodded, recognizing that the girl was important to both Hermione and his godson. "Very well, let us be off."

Thankfully they had all been to their destination before and the youngest member of the group had recently acquired her license so side-along wasn't necessary. Three distinct claps of thunder marked their Disapparation and the startled cry of a lone crow and a swirl of dry leaves was all that was left behind.

The group appeared side-by-side in the candlelit antechamber of the Malfoy ballroom a moment later. Hermione had enough time to blink away the unsettling sensation of Apparition before the witch beside her took off in a blur of motion with an elated screech. The seventh-year flew across the polished marble floors directly into the arms of a familiar blond. Had she not been wearing a floor length evening gown, she likely would've jumped up and wrapped her thighs around the boy's slim hips.

"Oomph," Draco wheezed as the enthusiastic girl ran into him full-force, knocking him backwards a step. He smirked and wrapped his arms around her. "Hey Red," he drawled in his patented aloof tone. "Miss me much?"

"Yes, you poncy git," she replied before tackling his mouth with her own.

Opposite the cavorting pair, Hermione snickered and Snape's lip curled in disgust at the highly public display of affection. He didn't necessarily expect better from the youngest Weasley — the family wasn't exactly known for their impulse control — but he was displeased to see that one of his own would encourage such indecorous behavior. "Thank Merlin you've never acted so juvenile," he remarked to the witch at his side.

"Aw, leave them alone," she chided, bumping his arm playfully with her elbow. "It's sweet. They haven't seen each other since school started back."

"It's unseemly."

Two more pops of Apparition sounded as another couple, dressed in wizarding finery, appeared in the middle of the chamber, obscuring the spectacle from view. By the time the newcomers had moved off towards the entrance to the ballroom, the snogging pair had parted and were crossing towards them.

Draco held out his hand to his godfather, a smugly pleased expression on his face. "Good to see you, Severus."

The elder wizard shook the proffered appendage. "You as well. How has Excalibur been treating you?"

"Very well," the blond replied, his smile widening. Thus far his classes had been challenging but utterly fascinating and being able to leave behind all the presumptions that he had lived under at Hogwarts had been incredibly liberating. He had been able to become a new person, his own person — not a Slytherin, not the child of a Death Eater, not Harry Potter's nemesis — and he was thriving. "I'd like to pick your brain about something before you leave tonight, actually, if you don't mind. I'm working on a rather intriguing project."

Snape nodded in assent. He was proud that the boy he had watched grow from infancy was following in his footsteps. The fact that Narcissa hadn't pursued a Potions Mastery due to pure-blood prejudices had never sat well with him.

Draco turned his attention to the second witch and made an exaggerated show of looking her over from head to toe. He smirked. "You clean up surprisingly well, Granger."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Malfoy, and give me a hug."

The pure-blood sighed dramatically, as though the suggestion was an arduous chore, before hugging the petite woman tightly. "I've missed you too," he murmured into her upswept curls. "And you look beautiful tonight."

She pecked him on the cheek in thanks as they parted and then, without further ado, Ginny whisked him away to do gods only knew what. "See you later," the Chaser called amidst her boyfriend's haughty laughter.

"Midnight, Miss Weasley," the Potions Master warned again. "Not a moment later." She waved her hand lazily over her shoulder in acknowledgement. His mouth compressed into a thin line of annoyance.

Hermione turned and gave her escort an amused, lopsided grin. "I guess we should go find Lucius."

Severus sighed and then held out his arm to the witch, tucking her small hand into the crease of his elbow. "I'm sure he is just inside the doors," he answered, gesturing in the direction of the ballroom's main entrance. "As host he's expected to greet everyone as they enter."

The Muggle-born nodded, having no experience with such social expectations outside of old movies that she had seen as a child, and let the wizard lead her towards the small queue that had formed. "Have you been to many parties here?" she asked offhandedly.

"A fair few," he allowed without much enthusiasm or inflection. "The Dark Lord enjoyed holding revels here. He was a fan of grandeur."

The couple in front of them shifted uneasily, having obviously overheard, and Hermione's face fell. She hated when she stumbled across such reminders of his past by not stopping to consider her words before they tumbled out of her mouth. Were those memories partly to blame for his lack of enthusiasm tonight? She squeezed his bicep through his dress robes in support but had no idea how to respond. Hopefully the evening would prove pleasant enough to replace some of those erstwhile recollections.

The line before them gradually dispersed, allowing the pair a wide view of the ballroom for the first time that evening. Over a hundred witches and wizards were already milling about the large chamber amidst the floating trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres. An odd ensemble of musicians was congregated in the orchestra pit while a woman and two men sang an upbeat but unfamiliar song from the stage. The massive chandeliers twinkled brightly with hundreds of flickering candles and the ceiling itself had been charmed to project a night sky full of constellations and a brilliant full moon.

Hermione gushed at the sight. It looked just as she imagined it would on her first visit. And here she was in the company of the same wizard that she had daydreamed about dancing with. The oddly-perfect symmetry between life and fantasy at that moment was almost too much to comprehend.

The corner of Severus' mouth twitched as he watched the girl take in the grandness of the ballroom. He had seen it all before, so many times and in such unpleasant circumstances that it had lost most of its appeal to him, but she was taking it all in with fresh eyes. Her pleasure and enthusiasm was tangible and infectious. Placing his hand at the small of her back, he guided her forward. "Come, pet. Lucius is waiting."

The pure-blood beamed when he saw them approach and he held out his hands in greeting. "There you are! I saw Ginevra briefly so I knew you must be here somewhere."

Hermione left Snape's side to embrace the blond wizard, as had become custom for them in the past year. "Thanks for inviting us, Lucius."

"Of course, of course. You two are the whole reason I'm even having the ball," he replied, hugging the petite witch briefly and then holding her out at arm's length to appreciate her dress. "You look positively stunning, my dear. Are those the hair combs I gave you?" She nodded and his smile widened even further. "They match your gown perfectly." He spun her around by one hand to see the fabric in motion. She giggled but complied. "Stunning. Just stunning."

"Do stop fawning all over my witch, Malfoy," Snape said in exasperation. It wasn't unusual for the two of them to carry on as such — they tended to be quite flirtatious with each other, often for the sole purpose of annoying him.

"Ah, Severus," Lucius said in greeting, flashing an arrogant grin over the witch's shoulder as if just noticing his old friend. "You're looking well. Though you're obviously still too cantankerous to deserve this beauty."

The younger Slytherin apparently couldn't argue with that assessment. They shook hands and Hermione giggled again. The truth was, yes, the man was now and would always be surly and ill-tempered but gods help her, she loved him that way. He'd be utterly boring without his trademark snark.

"You remember Adelaide, of course," the blond continued, gesturing them towards the statuesque witch at his side.

They had, in fact, only met the woman twice before but neither would ever forget her. The curvy redhead was the self-same that had tested the Vomica Domintor potion in the bowels of the Ministry a year ago. Her name was Adelaide St. Martin, though she preferred to be called Addy — a preference that none of the Slytherin men seemed capable of honoring. Born to half-blood parents in northern France, she had graduated from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. After school she had moved to London for work. During a trip back to her hometown over a decade ago, she had accidently stumbled across a pair of masked men attacking a Muggle girl in a dark alley. Interceding on the child's behalf, she had been tortured within an inch of her life for her trouble, which had led to the piteous condition that she had been in when they had first encountered her.

After Lucius had returned from his extended Parisian holiday, he had floundered around a bit without anything to occupy his time. One day, while bored out of his mind, an owl had arrived with an invitation to a support group of sorts for those who had been victims of the Cruciatus Curse and subsequently cured. With precious little else to do, he had attended, for a lark if nothing else. He had been pleasantly surprised to discover that the unnamed patient from the potion presentation was the unofficial leader of the program.

Having already deemed her beautiful, he had been quick to become enamored with the idea of courting her. He had even owled Hermione for advice on the matter. Because of her history, Adelaide hadn't been easy to convince and it had taken the pure-blood months to persuade her into cautiously agreeing to a first date. Despite her reservations, they had gotten along exceptionally well and had been seeing each other exclusively ever since.

Hermione had only met Addy one other time, at a private dinner at Malfoy Manor, but had taken an instant liking to her. She was intelligent, opinionated, and strong-willed but also sweet and incredibly compassionate. After spending nearly ten years as a vegetable, the woman had dedicated her life to humanitarian causes, namely the Torture Victims Outreach and Support Network that she had founded. She also was quite adept at keeping Lucius on his toes and was constantly challenging him out of his wealthy and selfish socialite mentalities.

"Of course," Hermione said warmly, reaching out a hand to the redhead. "Hello, Addy. How are you?"

"Incredibly nervous about this evening but also glad that it's finally here," Adelaide replied with a smile. "The planning has been a nightmare." She shook the younger girl's hand and then kissed her on both cheeks. "But it's good to see you again. You look lovely."

"Thank you." Hermione blushed, having reached her tolerance level of compliments for the evening. "It's good to see you again as well. And I love your dress." The garment in question was a shimmery gold strapless number that fell all the way to the floor and hugged the woman's ample curves like it had been painted on. The combination of the gold gown and her long red hair was decidedly Gryffindor and Hermione couldn't help but wonder if the witch's Slytherin suitor had noticed. She glanced at Lucius, who was smiling at the older witch like a lovesick third year, and had to swallow a giggle.

Snape suddenly grasped her elbow, demanding her attention, and she looked up at him questioningly. "A line is forming," he explained in a quiet voice.

A quick look behind her confirmed that there was, in fact, a line of smartly-dressed couples queued up and waiting to enter the ballroom. They were holding up the hosts and clogging the entrance. Oops.

"It was good to see you again, Ms. St. Martin," Severus said with a courteous tip of his head before ushering the younger witch down the steps and into the fray.

Hermione peered around owlishly at the mingling guests. She recognized a fair few of them — nameless faces from the Ministry and familiar Healers from the halls of St. Mungo's — but there were still an awful lot of strangers. The faint stirrings of anxiety bubbled up when the wizard dropped her elbow and she clutched at his arm before he could put any real distance between them. She knew that she shouldn't. Even though they weren't purposely keeping their relationship a secret anymore — everyone important to them, save for Hermione's parents, already knew — they had decided to keep it under wraps for the evening so as not to cause a scandal. Her brain, however, wasn't thinking entirely rationally at the moment.

Snape glanced down at the girl and instantly recognized her distress. They had been working on techniques for months to combat this very problem. "Deep breaths, Hermione," he murmured in a soothing tone and moved his hand to the small of her back to lend his support. "Controlled, calculated. No one is here to hurt you."

She did as he suggested, counting each inhale in a whisper. They had found that this tactic helped to focus her mind and keep the nausea at bay. He was pleased to see that despite her discomfort, she was smiling, albeit insincerely, because their arrival had already drawn attention. While he didn't know everyone in attendance, he was fairly positive that everyone knew who they were.

"I've got a vial of your Calming Draught with me if you need it," the Potions Master offered quietly. After witnessing the episode in the Ministry lobby last year, he had drawn up a recipe specifically for his apprentice in case she found herself in similar circumstances. It was tailored to her diminutive size and strong enough to be effective but not leave her inebriated. Little did she know he had begun carrying a vial with him whenever they went somewhere public.

Hermione turned her smile on him and for an instance it became genuine. "Thank you, Severus. I think I'm okay now."

"Good," he said in a low, suddenly annoyed tone, "because here they come."

The pair was soon bombarded by party guests, each wanting to shake their hands or express their gratitude. It was flattering and irritating and overwhelming all at once. They mingled amongst the crowd, exchanging pleasantries, for what felt like hours before being able to break away. When a lull finally came, they made a beeline for the refreshment table, feigning the need for sustenance. Moving swiftly so as to avoid being snagged into another conversation, Severus led his date into the concealing shadows between the wall and the mounds of artfully-arranged snacks. He shooed away the squadron of fairies that had been hovering over the punch bowl and ladled out two glasses, handing one to Hermione.

"Well that was ridiculous," she commented, taking the proffered beverage.

"Indeed," the wizard replied though his tone was nearly whimsical.

Hermione studied his expression curiously. His smirk bordered on a true smile. He should be cross and grouchy from all the unsolicited adulation but was almost giddy or as close to such an emotion as she had ever witnessed in him. "What are you so happy about?"

Before he could answer, Lucius' amplified voice echoed through the chamber. The blond was up on the stage, Addy at his side, and was calling for attention. They turned in unison to face that end of the ballroom and Hermione felt Snape move in close behind her. Her stomach fluttered with suppressed excitement.

"I had just come to the realization," he whispered, his breath sweeping teasingly across the back of her exposed neck, "that for the first time in my life the most beautiful witch at the ball is on _my_ arm."

The Gryffindor beamed from ear to ear, feeling warmth spread from chest to cheeks. He had gotten so much better at compliments in the past year. Though still not superfluous with praise, it was now spot on when it did occur. She leaned back into his strong frame slightly, wishing that they could be closer than their public locale would currently allow.

Lucius, with the help of the Sonorus charm, called again for everyone's attention and the room fell quiet. He flicked his white-blond hair over his shoulder and beamed at the amassed party-goers. "Adelaide and I would like to thank you all for joining us this evening," he announced, gesturing towards the redhead beside him. "We are here to celebrate an event that has changed the lives of each and every person in this room in one way or another." A low murmur rose from the crowd at these words. "I speak, of course, of the creation of the Cruciatus Vomica Domintor potion." The murmur morphed into a scattering of cheers and applause at the mention of the elixir and the pure-blood paused to allow it to die down. In the interim, the magically floating beverage trays seemed to double in number, doling out glasses of champagne to everyone within reach.

"If you aren't aware, Vomica Domintor translates, most aptly, to _curse conqueror_ , and it was those two words that kept coming to mind yesterday as I tried to formulate what I wanted to say tonight." He paused for a moment, his pale eyes searching the crowd. When he spotted the pair, half-concealed in the shadows, he inclined his head in salute before continuing. "When Severus titled his discovery as such, I'm sure he believed it to simply be a succinct description — it eliminates, or conquers if you will, the effects of the Cruciatus curse."

Hermione felt Severus twitch at the mention of his name and the pure-blood's nod. His hand came up to rest discreetly at her waist, which only served to remind her that she was naked beneath her gown. His long fingers grazed over the delicate fabric covering her hip and she knew that he was rediscovering that tidbit as well. Her lips hitched into a grin.

"What he likely didn't consider at the time," Lucius continued, his tone heartfelt and captivating, "were the multitude of personal demons that his creation would conquer in the process. In eliminating the effects of the Cruciatus Curse, the potion broke a different sort of curse that had many of us in its clutches as well. It quite literally set us free." The crowd applauded again, loudly this time in enthusiastic agreement, and the blond put his arm around Addy. "We'd like everyone to raise their glasses with us to toast the miraculous potion that brought us all here tonight and its creators, Severus Snape and Hermione Granger."

Hermione blushed and squeezed the hand on her hip as the room raised their voices in unison. "To Severus Snape and Hermione Granger!"

Once the applause died back down and the champagne had all been consumed, Lucius summoned the singers to the stage and music quickly filled the air again. Several couples moved onto the dance floor to begin a slow waltz.

"That was interesting," Snape said quietly, reluctantly removing his hand from the witch and eying the multiple platters of food beside them contemplatively.

"Which part?" Hermione questioned, setting down her untouched glass of punch. It had been a little embarrassing to have the entire ballroom chant their names but Lucius' speech hadn't been altogether surprising. She had found it rather touching actually, and the last part — the one about the potion setting them free from a different kind of curse — had been true for her as well. Her life had been irrevocably changed by its creation.

Severus picked up an unidentifiable hors d'oeuvre with a toothpick and gave it a speculative sniff. He made a face and set it back on the tray. "The fact that he had Ms. St. Martin up there with him and included her in his speech."

"Aren't they hosting together?" she asked in reply, watching the wizard pick up and inspect a second bite-sized snack like it was a would-be potion ingredient. "She has more contact with all these people than Lucius does. It seemed perfectly normal that she'd be up there with him."

He scowled and returned the roll of mystery food. "I have never seen anyone play hostess here other than Narcissa. It was a rather demonstrative step for Lucius." He prodded a bowl of suspicious green goo dispassionately with his wand.

Hermione huffed in exasperation at his behavior and circled around to the front side of the table, scanning the contents. She quickly filled a plate with several items that she knew the wizard would eat. Though usually not picky, he had a rather amusing aversion to what he considered _fancy_ food. She handed the plate to him. "I guess I didn't think of it that way. But it's obvious that he's in love with her." She smirked as he sniffed the items on the plate and found nothing repulsive. He popped a meatball in his mouth. "Does it bother you that she's taking Narcissa's place?"

Swallowing the mouthful, he shook his head. "No, not really. She seems to be good for him. I just found it interesting."

Before she had a chance to question him further, the sound of their surnames being called in a raised voice drew her attention in the opposite direction. It was all she could do to keep her expression from visibly falling when she located the source. Adolpho Blackworth was heading straight for them.

The rotund man hadn't changed much since Hermione had first met him in the Potions Patents office. Perhaps his hair was a bit thinner on top. His lecherous gaze sure hadn't been corrected and she felt an irrepressible need to cross her arms protectively over her chest as he approached.

"Snape! Granger! I've been trying to get a word with you two since you arrived," the wizard admonished, huffing a bit in between words from the exertion of crossing the ballroom at a quick clip. "Heck of a fan base here tonight." He thrust his beefy arm over the refreshment table to shake the Potions Master's hand.

Severus completed the gesture reflexively. "How are you, Adolpho?"

"Good, good. Lovely soiree," the wizard replied, greedily eying the platters of food as he picked up a plate. "Quite sporting of Malfoy to invite the committee."

Snape didn't reply, opting instead to pop a small wedge of fresh pineapple into his mouth. Hermione made a face as the chairman began to pile his plate with a disgusting amount of food. There was nothing that she liked about this man. She was an incredibly tolerant person — she had fallen in love with Severus Snape for Merlin's sake — but everything from the way his watery eyes fell too often on her cleavage to be accidental to his habit of calling everyone by their last name regardless of familiarity annoyed her. He was vulgar and rude and a bit of a pervert.

"So Granger," the wizard began, turning a leering gaze on her once his plate had reached max capacity. "How is your research coming along? I heard tale that you have been tinkering with the Cruciatus potion to work on the brain."

Her chocolate-brown eyes flitted to Severus over the squat man's shoulders and back again. The former Death Eater was, of course, listening intently despite his outward appearance of disinterest. She tried her best to smile politely at the Chairman. "Who told you that?"

Her private research was just that — private. It hadn't been made public knowledge and wouldn't be unless it proved successful, which was still months of work away from even being a possibility. The potions community could be quite cutthroat and until an idea had been issued a patent, it was fair game. Protecting one's intellectual property was a big deal. The only people that she had discussed her work with wouldn't have had any reason to tell this wizard about it.

Adolpho chuckled, making his protruding belly jiggle beneath his unflattering dress robes. Hermione failed to see anything humorous in her question. She glanced at Snape again and was pleased to see that a sneer was ghosting across his thin lips. At least she wasn't the only one annoyed by this turn of events.

"You can't expect to repeatedly run diagnostics in a closed hospital ward without gossip spreading, my dear," Adolpho replied jovially in between stuffing his face with caviar and toast points. "Rumor has it that you've been specifically concentrating on the Largebuttons."

The apprentice scowled. She had developed a good working rapport with the private duty Healers in Ward 49 but St. Mungo's was a big place with a lot of eyes, ears, and apparently wagging tongues. "It's the _Longbottoms_ ," she corrected waspishly. "Frank and Alice Longbottom. Decorated Aurors from the first war."

The portly wizard nodded as he shoved a greasy-looking hors d'oeuvre in his mouth. "Yes, them." He swallowed and licked his fingers. "Have you made any progress? What avenues are you pursuing?"

"I don't…" Hermione bit her tongue and mentally counted to ten. She had been on the verge of telling him off but thought better of it. This man, as rude and despicable as he was, was a longtime colleague of Severus' and a man of importance in the potions community. Making him an enemy would not serve her well in the future.

"I've been doing a lot of research into neurological synapses and brain cognition," she replied in forced civility, trying not to feel violated by having to divulge her secrets. "I believe that I have narrowed down most of the ingredient changes that will be necessary to alter the original potion. I've also determined that Charms will have to play a role, both in brewing and administering."

Adolpho's bushy eyebrows rose in interest. "Really? What type of Charms? Containment shields? Cohesion spells?"

She shook her head. "I'm not entirely sure yet. I'm hoping to collaborate with a Charms Master next week."

She had discussed her research with Flitwick in depth and he had agreed with her assessment that more than the potion alone would be needed to achieve her means. Unfortunately he had also admitted that the type of magic that she was likely to need was not really his specialty. He had referred her to a colleague of his, one of the leading Charms Masters in all of Europe. After exchanging several owls with the woman over the past few weeks, she had been intrigued enough to agree to meet and discuss the project in person.

"Excellent! As soon as you are at the testing stage, I'd love to be a witness." Another few thousand calories of fried food disappeared down the man's gullet.

Her gaze fell on Severus' yet again and he appeared to be on the verge of laughter, which for him meant a certain glint in his dark eyes and a nearly imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth. Oddly she felt her own annoyance slip away at the sight. "We'll see," she hedged with a slight grin that she couldn't quite suppress. "Don't hold your breath, though. Master Snape keeps me on a rather short leash." She heard the Slytherin actually snort at this claim. "He only allows me to work on my research in my free time."

Adolpho gave an explosive, belly-shaking guffaw and looked at the reticent Potions Master reproachfully. The man didn't seem to know what he had at his disposal — a young, nubile beauty that could also be worth her weight in gold. Some bastards got all the luck. "Such the stickler." He turned back to the little witch and flashed an ingratiating smile. "Let's leave Snape to his self-imposed moodiness. Come dance with me."

Hermione's eyes widened, like a deer caught in headlamps. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to formulate a response, but was saved by a small and miraculous stroke of luck in the form of a tall, prissy blond. Lucius glided over to their little group as if he had sensed her discomfort from across the crowded ballroom. He slid his arm around her waist in one fluid motion and she had to swallow the sigh of relief that bubbled up in her throat.

"I'm afraid that the illustrious Miss Granger has promised this dance to me, Mr. Blackworth," he said smoothly. He didn't bother to wait for his words to fully register before leading her swiftly away.

When they reached the dance floor, Hermione reached up to kiss the wizard on the cheek. "Thank you."

Lucius quirked an eyebrow at the girl as he placed a palm at the small of her back and took her hand in the other. "Whatever was that for?" The next song began and he gracefully led her feet in time with the beat.

"For saving me from that wretched, horrible man," she replied with a shudder. "The mere idea of having to dance with him turns my stomach. I can't stand him."

"That much was obvious," the pure-blood drawled and then effortlessly spun them around with the music. He was pleased to find the witch a responsive dance partner. "I was surprised that Severus didn't beat me to your rescue."

Hermione turned her gaze to track the dark wizard in question. He had been drawn out of the shadows behind the refreshment table and was now surrounded by several members of the patent committee, including the loathsome chairman who was still stuffing his face. Snape caught and held her eye briefly, conveying a glint of exasperation, before focusing back on his audience. "I'm not sure that he knew how without looking like the jealous lover."

"Which, of course, is precisely what he is," the blond pointed out. He had already noticed his long-time friend surreptitiously watching their movement across the dance floor. When the wizard's gaze strayed in their direction again, he smirked and pulled the girl tighter to him just to see the younger Slytherin's nostrils flare.

She snickered, having caught the reaction as well. "Yes, but he doesn't want that to be public knowledge. He feels oddly guilty about his jealousy."

Malfoy suspected that he knew the root cause of those emotions but didn't comment. It was enough that the girl didn't seem bothered by it. They were quiet for a moment, moving in tandem to the song being belted out by the performers on stage. The couple dancing next to them, members of the outreach group that he was a part of, smiled and thanked him for the invitation and then practically gushed their appreciation towards Hermione, all while continuing to keep step. The Muggle-born blushed prettily and accepted their praise gracefully.

Once the well-wishers had moved along, Lucius dipped his partner masterfully and she grinned up at him before asking, "Speaking of lovers, how are things going with Addy?"

The Slytherin's pale eyes scanned the ballroom until they landed on the redhead beauty chatting with a group of Healers. An unconscious smile lit his features. "Very well, I believe. We have been taking things rather slow. We both have such complicated histories, as you know." An understatement if there ever was one — he was a former Death Eater and she had lost ten years of her life to his masked brethren. "But each day seems to bring us a bit closer and I find myself caring for her in a way that I didn't think would be possible again after Narcissa's passing."

Hermione's smile widened. He had become such a dear friend and it made her happy to see the man falling in love and moving forward with his life. "That's wonderful. I really like her."

The song ended and another, faster paced one began. The blond made no attempt to disentangle himself from her, instead leading her in a series of slightly quicker steps and turns. After she got the hang of it, she pursued another thread of conversation. "How's the book coming?"

"Splendidly," he replied, adjusting his hold upon her to accommodate the different style of dance. "I've been meeting with Jameson a couple times a week. He believes it should be ready for print by Christmas."

"Oh wow. That was fast."

Hermione had always believed that a book about the wealthy socialite's life would practically sell itself. Not only was his fall from grace and subsequent resurrection a fascinating story but the man could be unquestionably charismatic when he wanted to be. She had suggested the idea to him last Boxing Day when they had all been gathered in the library, strategizing over a chess set once again. The older Slytherin had been adamant against it at first, having no desire to drag out ancient history and expose his life to the public microscope. Despite his fondness for the limelight, there were plenty of skeletons in his past that he hadn't fancied being unearthed.

Being the stubborn Gryffindor that she was, however, Hermione kept bringing the subject up. She was convinced that getting the story out there — everything from being in Voldemort's inner circle to Narcissa's murder to his being rescued from the brink of death — would not only be a wizarding best seller but would be extremely cathartic for the wizard. A well-written book had the power to right a lot of wrongs, change preconceived notions, and clear the air. Theoretically it could enable him to begin his new life on a fresh, clean slate — something that she truly believed he deserved.

After the fifteenth consecutive owl in a two month stretch, Lucius had finally given in, allowing that he didn't have to do any of the actual writing. Rejoicing in her hard-earned victory, Hermione had searched high and low to find a qualified ghostwriter for the project. It had taken quite a bit of legwork and research but she had finally come across the perfect candidate — Brent Jameson, an author who had published a book about Voldemort's first reign of terror that had focused heavily on the megalomaniac's manipulative control over his followers. It had only taken one group luncheon for the man to agree to the proposed contract and come onboard.

"Yes, he's not one for dallying," Lucius replied, twirling her again. "To be perfectly honest, I have enjoyed working with him and will be a bit bereft of a project when we are finished."

A deep, silky voice interrupted their conversation, stilling their feet and making both heads turn towards the sound. "May I cut in?"

The Muggle-born beamed up at the dour wizard in her incomprehensible way and Malfoy smirked. "We have been friends a very long time, Severus, but I doubt that we would make good dance partners. Who would lead?"

Not skipping a beat for his friend's sarcasm, Snape made a blatant show of appraising the pompous blond from head to foot. "Between the two of us? Obviously me."

The older man scowled. "Are you implying that I am effeminate?"

"No need," Severus drawled as the song came to an end and the dancers surrounding them stopped to applaud. "I believe your shoe collection does that for me."

Lucius turned to look at the witch still in his embrace. She was desperately trying to suppress her amusement. "I have no idea how you can put up with him."

Allowing a grin to peek through, Hermione glanced at the man in question, who crossed his arms over his chest dispassionately, then back at the blond. "I don't either most of the time and yet here we are."

"Certainly one of the world's great mysteries." He dropped his hold on the girl and brought her hand up to his lips. "Thank you for the dance."

"Thank you for rescuing me," she replied, blushing ever-so-slightly at his chivalrous gesture.

The pure-blood dropped her hand and inclined his head in salute. "The pleasure was all mine, my dear." He winked and left the pair, purposely smacking the Potions Master with his shoulder as he passed.

Before anything more could be said, two sets of random ball attendees came over to shake their hands and sing their praises. The pair spoke with the guests until the music started up again, a slow sensual tango that seemed to settle in the veins and belly. Once free of the sycophants, Severus took the witch into his arms and began to move them across the floor, his dark eyes attempting to burn their way into her soul.

"Did you and the committee have a nice chat?" Hermione asked with a teasing grin.

A spark of annoyance flashed through his gaze. "Dolts. I paid enough attention to ensure nothing stupid was proposed but ignored the majority of the inane chatter."

"Your typical staff meeting behavior then?" she quipped.

He pulled her into him a bit closer, just enough to make his point. "My mind was elsewhere, if you must know."

She cocked her head to the side slightly, melting effortlessly into his arms. There was still too much space between them for her taste but she adored dancing with the wizard. They were so in sync on the dance floor that no effort was required of her. Her body simply followed his lead without hesitation, like a moth to a flame. She was again reminded of her wistful visions of waltzing with him a year ago. Her grin spread like warm honey. "And where would that be?"

"Malfoy's library actually." He suddenly spun her away from him and then brought her back in, pressing her back against his chest, close enough to purr in her ear. " _With you_."

Hermione's pulse quickened at the overall sensation that his quick and seductive actions had produced. "The library?" she asked a bit breathlessly. "Fancy borrowing a book or two?"

Severus' lips twitched in amusement but he shook his head. "Not this evening, no. I had a bit _less_ studious ideas in mind."

She feigned surprise. "Surely you wouldn't dream of besmirching such an austere location, good sir. Wouldn't one of the many guestrooms be a better setting for such activities?"

"Definitely not," he answered before turning her around to face him. "In a bedroom, I'd be forced to throw you upon the mattress, which would undoubtedly crease your dress and muss your hair." He leered at her, admiring the way her cheeks colored and her irises grew two shades darker. "That simply wouldn't do for this evening. The library however—"

"Snape!" Adolpho's booming voice called as the rotund man materialized beside them, interrupting the intimate conversation. "Bodley has just arrived. You must come and speak with him. He has been doing remarkable things with mold spores."

The Slytherin had to use considerable effort not to sneer at the interloper. His timing was horrible. "We are in the middle of a dance here, Adolpho," he ground out, already sick of speaking with anyone that wasn't the enchanting vixen in his arms. "I will come and find you when the song is over."

"Don't be silly," the short man chided. "Granger here won't mind. Let the girl go and dance with the wizards her own age." He winked lasciviously at her. "We old men have business to attend to."

What a complete imbecile. Hermione felt the muscles in Snape's shoulders contract sharply and she blanched. She could just about imagine what he was thinking. She tried to arrange her features into a placating smile, lest he murder the Patent Committee chairman. "It's okay, Professor. Perhaps we can dance later."

Severus sighed in resignation before leaning down to whisper silkily into her ear. "I am _not_ finished with you yet."

Her face flushed as he dropped his arms and went to join the other man. She watched the two walk away, becoming almost immediately swallowed up by the swarm of people in the now-crowded ballroom. Feeling vaguely queasy at the sight of so many strangers, she slowly picked her way back over to the refreshment table. She kept her head down and prayed to the gods that no one would stop her to chat. Mercifully she reached the semi-concealing shadows without delay and poured herself a new cup of punch. Leaning back against the wall, she closed her eyes to steady her nerves.

"Alright there, Granger?"

Recognizing the voice but unable to quite place it in this setting, she cautiously looked around. A familiar Slytherin, handsome as always, lounged against the stretch of wall beside her. "Hi Blaise," she said with a smile. They had become friends of sorts during the last few months of school and this chance meeting was a pleasant surprise. "I'm fine. I'm just not a huge fan of crowds. What are you doing here?"

She hadn't seen the wizard in person since they had all graduated in June, but his face and half-naked torso had been making frequent appearances in _Witch Weekly_ , _Miss Magic_ , _Playwizard,_ and several Muggle women's magazines as of late. He had been cashing in big time on his exotic good looks. She had even caught Mrs. Weasley ogling his picture one afternoon, not knowing that the model was younger than most of her children.

"Draco invited me and the prat's not even here," the boy replied with a glower, swirling the dark liquid in the crystal goblet that he held.

Hermione snorted. "He's here but he and Ginny are off shagging somewhere. They haven't seen each other in over a month."

"Lovely," he replied with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. "To add insult to injury, he swore that this place would be crawling with available witches but you're the only attractive one under forty here and it looks like you're already spoken for." He arched his brow eloquently, reminding the girl of his former Head of House. "How long have you been sleeping with Snape anyway?"

She nearly choked on a mouthful of punch. Swallowing carefully, she sat her cup on the table and turned back to the dark-skinned wizard with what she hoped was an innocent expression. "Why on earth would you ask that?"

It was Blaise's turn to snort. "Oh come off it, Granger. I have _eyes_. I'm sure anyone who saw you two dancing assumed the same thing. The chemistry was rather obvious."

She blushed but had been afraid of as much. Apparently the _rightness_ that she felt while dancing with the prickly Slytherin translated to sexual attraction to the casual observer. It had happened before, the only other time that they had danced together in public, at Remus and Tonk's wedding over the summer. They had caused quite the uproar amongst the guests that hadn't yet known that they were an item. Hagrid had nearly choked to death on his tankard of mead.

Realizing that there was no sense denying it, especially not to a guy who made his living by getting housewives hot and bothered, her grin was equal parts pride and embarrassment. "Guilty as charged, I guess."

His resultant expression was smug. "Normally I'd ask what your angle is, but it was also obvious that, in typical Gryffindor fashion, you don't have one."

She chuckled but conceded. "Nope. I'm hopelessly in love with the bastard." Her gaze automatically cast about the massive chamber in search of the wizard in question but she wasn't able to spot him from her position in the shadows.

"Always knew you were an odd one," was the boy's only reaction before he drained his goblet and sat it on the refreshment table where it was immediately whisked away by magic. He gave her an appraising look and held out his hand. "I'm bored. Let's dance."

Having no reason to refuse, she shrugged, took his hand and let him lead her towards the dance floor. She only made it a few steps, however, before stopping with a grimace. Her feet were killing her. She had already danced quite a bit, not to mention all the standing around, and she wasn't used to wearing heels. She had cast several cushioning charms on the new pumps but the spells obviously hadn't been very effective. Blaise raised his brow questioningly and in a split second decision, she used his shoulder as support in order to pull off the blasted shoes one at a time. Their absence left her several inches shorter and her gown now pooled slightly on the ground, but at least she could move without pain. She ditched the heels beneath the long tablecloth that the refreshments sat upon, made a mental note to retrieve them before leaving for the night, and rejoined the dark-skinned wizard.

By the time they reached the dance floor, a new song was just starting — an upbeat rendition of a Weird Sisters' hit that was more modern than anything she had heard all night. The younger party attendees, lured by the music, crowded in and everyone began to gyrate in one mass. Hermione focused on her former schoolmate and tried her best to ignore the fact that she was surrounded on all sides by bodies. Thankfully Blaise proved to be a more than adequate partner. By the end of the number, she was grinning and winded and glad to hear the tempo drop back into a slow ballad. She took the tall wizard's hand and placed the other on his shoulder as his settled onto her waist.

"So how was your summer?" he asked as they found a comfortable rhythm. "If you're already shagging Snape then I assume that the apprenticeship is going well."

She rolled her eyes at the Slytherin's blunt sarcasm. "It _is_ going well. I've learned a lot. I've even started to supervise the second and third year classes!" she gushed proudly. Of the long list of apprenticeship requirements, teaching had become one of her favorites. The first-years were a bit too unpredictable and the older students were too close to her own age to give her their full respect, but the classes in the middle had been a great fit so far. "And the summer was amazing. We traveled quite a bit. Severus took me all over Europe to harvest potion ingredients."

" _Severus_ is it?" Blaise asked with a smirk and twirled her with an unnecessary flourish. "That's bloody weird, Granger."

"No weirder than random middle-aged witches wanking to your pictures," she countered. Even here, at a private charity ball, she could see at least a dozen pairs of eyes — not all of them female — following his bum across the dance floor. Admittedly, it was a nice bum.

The boy-turned-man laughed, a rich, oddly melodic sound that was totally incongruous with the almost mournful song being played. "Touché." He dipped her. "And how are the other two-thirds of the _Platinum Trio_ or whatever ridiculousness people are calling you these days? Have they tried to murder Snape yet?"

She grinned. "Surprisingly, no. They don't exactly like the fact that we're involved but they've learned to live with it. Out of sight, out of mind for the most part." She paused as he led her through some intricate footwork just for the hell of it. She had a feeling that he was showing off for his admirers. "Ron accepted an assistant coaching position with a triple A Quidditch team. They travel a lot and I haven't been able to see him much. But Harry just finished training at the Ministry last month and is a full-fledged Auror now. We usually get together for lunch or dinner every other week or so."

"You, Snape, and Potter? That has to be helluva awkward."

The Muggle-born crinkled her nose and shook her head. "No, Severus usually skips those outings."

To his credit, he had joined her and Harry the first time that they had met for dinner at a Muggle Thai place near Grimmauld Place. Admittedly, it had been one of the most painfully awkward experiences ever imagined, for all parties involved. She hadn't pressured him to escort her after that and he had been perfectly content to let her go alone. She hadn't even blamed him when he had declined to accompany her to Harry's eighteenth birthday party at the Burrow. She had been downright gob-smacked, however, when he gave her a small gift to deliver to the man of the hour. Severus wouldn't tell her what the plainly-wrapped box contained but Harry had disappeared for nearly thirty minutes after opening it, emerging from the house with suspiciously red eyes. It took some badgering but the boy had finally told her that it was a vial of personal memories featuring Lily when she was young. After that surprisingly considerate gesture, Harry hadn't uttered another bad word about the older wizard.

"I bet," Blaise replied distractedly and then gestured over her shoulder. "Looks like the lovebirds have come up for air finally."

Hermione glanced behind her and saw Draco and Ginny emerging from the antechamber. The blond's expression was ridiculously smug and the younger Gryffindor's hair was significantly less polished than it had been when they had all arrived at the manor. Hermione snickered and turned back to the dark-skinned boy. Before she could comment, though, she spotted Severus striding in their direction from across the room. There was an emotion simmering in his black eyes that she couldn't quite decipher. "I think we're about to be interrupted."

The Slytherin turned his head just as his former Head of House reached them. He immediately stopped dancing and dropped his hands from the witch, not wanting anything to be misconstrued. "Hello, Professor."

"Mr. Zabini," Snape said in greeting, his penetrating gaze still fixed on his apprentice. He didn't so much as glance in the boy's direction but made a shooing gesture with his hand. "Run along now."

Hermione flashed the younger man an apologetic smile as Severus pulled her into his frame and began to move with the music. If he noticed that she was several inches shorter than she had been during their last dance, he didn't question it. The curly-haired witch looked back into the older wizard's smoldering gaze and swallowed reflexively. Blaise, caught off guard by the flat dismissal, watched them for a moment before replacing his expression of shock with a smirk and sauntering off the dance floor in the direction of his old Housemate.

"So…" she began in a tentative voice, attempting to break the heavy tension between them. "Was the mold discussion fascinating?"

"Riveting," he deadpanned, eliciting a small smile.

"Better than the imagined library activities?"

Heat flared again in his fathomless eyes and the corner of his mouth twitched. He closed the space between them as much as propriety would allow and bowed his head so as to direct his response to her ears only. His tone was like the smoothest whisper of silk against her skin. "The things I would do to you, _Miss Granger_ … to that exquisite body of yours amongst the towering shelves of leather-bound knowledge."

Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment and she inhaled heavily through her nose to gather her wits. The only time he used her last name in private conversation anymore was when his domineering side came out to play. He was purposely trying to drive her mad and it was working.

"I would take you the way I wouldn't even allow myself to dream about last year," he continued, pushing their physical boundaries even further. His dress robes skimmed ever-so-lightly against her breasts as they danced, causing her nipples to draw into hard peaks. "That night that you appeared, dressed so provocatively and behaving so cheekily…" His voice dropped another octave. "I wanted to fuck you into oblivion that night, witch, as much for your insolence as your allure."

Hermione couldn't breathe properly. She was suddenly lightheaded and felt as if she was going to hyperventilate. "Severus," she whispered, almost like a prayer. "Let's go. Take me to the library now."

His lips curled upward seductively at the sound and the hand on her hip squeezed her flesh. "Are you wet, Miss Granger?"

She could just barely hear the question over the music and the heavy thuds of her own heartbeat and could hardly believe that he would ask such a thing under present circumstances. She could feel her cheeks burning as she hissed in the affirmative. Without knickers to act as a barrier, her thighs were beginning to feel slick with desire.

"How badly do you need to come right now?" The intensity of his gaze was melting her from the inside out.

It was almost infuriating how the wizard could carry on such a conversation and yet remain so calm and collected. She was positive that she was the only one in the crowded ballroom that could tell the difference in his usually detached demeanor at that moment. It didn't seem fair — she was rapidly turning into a randy mess and he was the picture of propriety. She wet her lips, a feat as her mouth had gone bone dry, and tried to express a sense of urgency with her eyes as her one-word reply came out in a breathless whimper. "Please." He smirked and if she didn't want to snog him so fiercely, she would have hexed him for being such a tease.

"I have a proposition," he drawled. She raised her brows to show that she was listening, not that he could possibly question her attention. "Do you remember once telling me that you thought my voice alone could bring you to orgasm?"

Hermione gulped, her face, neck, and décolletage feeling hot again, and nodded. It wasn't a conversation that she was likely to forget any time soon. They had been lying naked in his bed in the dungeons discussing fantasies, specifically those that she had entertained before their courtship had begun. They had ended up pursuing other avenues of pleasure that night and until now, she had thought that he had forgotten all about the discussion.

"I'd like to test that intriguing hypothesis." There was a pause the length of a heartbeat. " _Now_."

Her eyes widened dramatically. "Here?" Her voice came out in a strangled sort of squeak. She glanced around them to make sure that no one was eavesdropping. "Are you drunk, Severus?" They were in a room of nearly two hundred people. How could he possibly suggest such a thing? She had never been particularly inconspicuous and was rarely able to keep quiet during the throes of passion.

He flashed her a dark, nearly feral grin that mimicked the one that Crookshanks wore whenever he caught a particularly wily bit of prey. The song that they had been dancing came to an end as she stared up at him, flushed and horrified. Before the next tune could start up, he took her by the wrist and swiftly led her off the dance floor.

She kept pace with the wizard so as not to cause more of a spectacle than they already were. Eyes seemed to follow them regardless of whether they were doing anything noteworthy or not. When they reached the opposite wall, he pushed her through a glass-fronted door that had been partially obscured by an ornately carved potted topiary. There was a deserted balcony beyond and he shut the door behind them before pulling her into his arms and crushing his lips to hers.

When he released her, she breathlessly glanced in the direction that they had come just from. The door was positioned in such a way that anyone could see the balcony _if_ they were specifically looking out the beveled glass but otherwise the landing was virtually invisible. She looked back into Snape's fire-rimmed, coal black eyes as he cast a privacy charm around them and briefly wondered if he had preplanned this whole thing. Sneaky Slytherins.

"Turn around. Face the grounds," he commanded, his lowered voice that panty-dropping combination of silk and steel that drove her mental. "Put both hands on the banister and keep them there."

Hermione did as he ordered; she was powerless not to. Placing her palms on the cool marble rail, she closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and then reopened them. Even in the dark, the sight before her was beautiful. The entire Malfoy garden was sprawled out below. They were somehow high in the air, at least three stories up, despite the fact that the ballroom was on the ground floor of the manor. This obvious display of magic would have normally piqued her curiosity but now was not the moment for questions. She closed her eyes again and let her fingers curl around the support in front of her.

"I watched you dancing with Zabini," he began, sliding up behind her so close that his breath tickled the nape of her neck. "Half the room was watching the two of you. You made quite the striking pair."

Her brow knitted together. This was not how she had expected him to begin. "Severus, you know I—"

"Silence!" he snapped, though there was no real malice behind the word. He stepped in even closer, his dress robes ghosting across the back of her gown. "You are my witch. You belong to _me_ — mind, body, and soul — and all I wanted to do was pull you out of his arms and remind you of that."

Hermione couldn't stop the quiver of pleasure that shot down her spine, causing her limbs to visibly shudder. Her entire nervous system was coming alive, prickling under her skin in the most delicious way. She wasn't entirely sure if he was actually angry or not. Had he really been jealous of Blaise or was he just using her own perversions against her? He was well aware of the fact that she got off on his possessiveness. Of course at that moment, she didn't much care if his reaction was genuine or not, it was working regardless.

"I'd take you to the library," he continued without remarking on her obvious state, "away from all those prying eyes. I'd light a fire just like the first night we were there together but leave the lamps dark so that the shadows press upon us from every side. Then I'd kiss you hard. I want every last inch of your body to retain my touch, to never forget who possesses it."

She inhaled sharply through her nose. She had long since stopped trying to understand why such masochistic statements turned her to jelly.

"After I've claimed your mouth, I'd turn you around and splay you over the arm of the sofa so that sweet little arse of yours is up in the air." His voice had turned to molasses, thick and slow. "I'd carefully fold your dress up over your hips so as not to wrinkle it, but do you know what I'd find for all my thoughtful efforts?"

Hermione shook her head ever-so-slightly, unable to form any coherent words. She was already desperate for the man behind her to touch her, to hold her, to kiss her. This was torture.

"I'd find your bum completely exposed because you decided to be naughty and come to the ball without any knickers."

She could have sworn that she felt his hands skim down her backside though she knew that his restraint was far better than hers. If he had made up his mind not to touch her, it would take Merlin himself to force the dark wizard to lay a hand on her. His willpower was a thing of legend. She bit her bottom lip.

"Do you know what happens to naughty witches, Miss Granger?" His mouth was so close to her ear that his words barely had to be said aloud. " _Punishment_ is surely in order, don't you think?"

Hermione squeaked in response to what was most definitely a rhetorical question. Her heart was going to beat its way out of her chest soon. It was thudding so hard that she feared her ribs would be bruised and the deep ache at her core was building in intensity.

Severus smirked at the sound that had issued from the diminutive witch. He knew that he had her right where he wanted her. It wouldn't take much to lead her to the precipice. "A sound spanking is called for in such a case, I would say," he murmured, inhaling a hint of jasmine. "If you want to expose your bare cheeks then they should at least match your gown. A nice red would be fitting for such a devious little Gryffindor."

A gentle breeze blew across the balcony, disguising a shiver. She was far from cold.

"I'd fill the silent library with the exquisite sounds of my hand smacking your naked flesh and your moans with every blow. Because you enjoy being punished when you're naughty. You love it when I spank you, don't you?"

Her reply this time was far more guttural than the last. She really could imagine the scene that he was describing, the sensations that would come from such actions felt tangible. Unsurprisingly, she was close to orgasm just from the pictures he was painting in her mind.

"Once your bottom was properly warmed up for your transgressions, I'd spread your cheeks to see just how turned on you are." He leaned into her even further, his lips a hairsbreadth from the shell of her ear. "How wet have you gotten for me, Miss Granger?"

So wet that the slickness was creeping its way down her thighs, nearly to her knees. It was as if a dam had broken somewhere upriver. She gulped at the cool night air.

"The fun part is that the only way to truly measure your desire is to just _plunge_ in," he growled, not waiting for an actual reply. "One quick thrust and I'd know all your secrets."

Hermione moaned again and reflexively tried to rub herself against the wizard behind her. All she needed was a bit of friction to tip the scales in her favor. From the brief contact she managed, she knew that he was nearly as aroused as she was.

"Uh-uh," he chastised, stepping back and putting a foot or more of space between them. "No touching. Little girls that don't follow the rules are going to be punished even more severely."

"Severus… please." It came out as a breathless plea to the heavens, an entreaty to the gods to release her from this hell.

"For your disobedience," he said, speaking over her desperate supplication, "I can either walk away now and leave you so close yet so unfulfilled," he paused for a moment to let this threat sink in, "or I can spank you again, harder this time. Which shall it be?"

She wet her lips before responding, the choice quite simple. "Spank me, sir."

Snape growled deep in his chest, more affected by the witch's response than he should have been, given that this experiment was about her pleasure, not his. She was no longer innocent or naïve. She knew that her words would get to him. He had to clinch his fists at his sides to keep from reaching out to her.

"I will not sacrifice or delay my own pleasure for your punishment," he continued once he had regained his self-control. "I'd continue to take you, hard and unrelenting, against the arm of Malfoy's overpriced davenport. But with every thrust, I'd smack your arse with enough force to sting my hand and make you cry out."

He stepped in closer again, sensing the finish line was near. He placed his mouth behind her ear, letting nothing physically touch her but his breath. "With every stroke, I'd tattoo my name deep inside you until every cell in your body was claimed. I'd ravish you and turn your backside purple until you come for me. Are you ready, Miss Granger? Can you feel me fucking you?"

She had lost pretty much all control over her facilities at this point. It was taking all her disposable energy to keep herself upright. Still, knowing a response was required, she managed a minute nod of her head. It seemed to be enough because his arms came round her, not necessarily touching her but boxing her in as his sinewy hands gripped the banister on the outside of her own. She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing through her nose as her body poised on the brink of ecstasy. The pain was transcendent.

"You are so beautiful, bent over for me, the firelight dancing across your skin. A fantasy I never want to wake from." He paused and let her squirm for a moment before dropping his voice an octave. "Come for me, pet. I want to feel you clench around me and bathe me in your nectar." He allowed his lips to brush ever-so-lightly along the outer rim of her ear. "Come for me, _now_."

And, as if he had scripted it, the petite witch let out an inarticulate cry as her entire body quivered for a moment, like a mirage in the desert. Then her knees buckled beneath her and he had to wrap a strong arm around her midriff to keep her upright. He could feel the quaking of the internal muscles of her abdomen and the sensation seemed to thrum through his already-painful erection.

He wrapped his other arm around the girl and held her tight against him as her body rode out its release. "That's it, my love," he whispered against her temple. "The best part of my day is sending you over that edge. You are mesmerizing."

Hermione managed a weak sort of chuckle as she sagged into the wizard's embrace. Orgasming without physical stimulation took a monumental amount of energy. Her legs felt like jelly. "I'm pretty sure that you just proved that you are the mesmerizing one. I'm just an easy target."

He smirked. "Perhaps. Your hypothesis was certainly spot on."

"About that," she said languidly, resting her head onto his chest. She'd pay an undisclosed fortune for a bed right now. "While certainly enjoyable, I don't think that it was an adequate experiment."

"And how did you reach that inept conclusion?" he asked, resisting the very strong urge to lift the back of her ball gown and sink into her warmth right there against the railing. "I am positive that you just came, quite hard I might add, simply from me talking to you. That was the challenge, was it not?"

"Yes, but anyone could've succeeded with that story, Severus. It was clearly biased."

The Slytherin chuckled darkly. The girl couldn't stand under her own volition but she was still going to bust his bollocks. "I don't recall you establishing parameters."

She turned in his arms so that she was looking up at him. She flashed him her crooked grin, the one that he had a soft spot for. "I know, but if we are being serious about it, you've got to succeed while saying nothing overtly sexual."

"What is it that I am supposed to say?" he asked, smoothing his palms down her bare arms.

"A true test would be something far more mundane, like reciting from a Muggle telephone directory." Her grin blossomed at the idea. "Now if you could make _that_ erotic, I'd concede victory."

Snape shook his head in amusement before leaning down to kiss the infuriating little witch just to shut her up. Hermione melted into his lips, all her leftover arousal bubbling back up the surface. She still desperately wanted him. She slid a hand between them to caress the sizable bulge that she could feel prodding her stomach.

At the contact, the Potions Master growled and took several steps backwards. "No," he snapped, as if she had been on the verge of adding the wrong ingredient to her cauldron. "Not here." He removed his wand from his sleeve and waved it over his tented robes, muttering the incantation for a deflating charm under his breath. He sighed in audible relief once the magic took effect.

Hermione frowned, temporarily disappointed, but removed her own wand from the hidden sheath on her dress. If they were done playing for the time being, she was desperate to tidy herself up a bit. Her thighs were ridiculously slippery.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, the shift in his tone so pronounced that her hand stalled mid-movement. When she looked up, his brow was eloquently arched in question.

She could feel her cheeks flush. "I was just going to clean up before we go back in there."

"Oh no, there will be no cleaning up, Miss Granger." He took a predatory step towards her.

"What? Why?" She backed up a few paces until her back was against the railing. "You can't expect me to go back in there like this, Severus. I'm a mess."

His resulting smirk was arrogant enough to rival the Malfoys'. He halved the distance between them in one long stride. "And whose fault is that?"

She put her hands on her hips and stuck her chin out defiantly. "Yours."

His eyebrow quirked even higher. "I don't recall laying a finger on you."

She made a face, unable to argue with that point. "I am not going back in there without at least casting a cleansing charm."

He took another unnaturally lengthy step and was pressed against her, his hands on the banister on either side of her. She dropped her arms to her sides and bit her lip as she looked up at him, trying to keep her resolve in check.

"You will not erase one exquisite drop of desire until I get you back to the castle," he said in a warning tone. "I want to experience the full measure of your arousal." He stooped to kiss the skin beneath her ear. "As a compromise," he murmured into her flesh, "I promise to clean you most thoroughly once both of our needs have been met."

Hermione whimpered and pushed him back. He was only exacerbating the problem. Bloody prat. "Fine, Severus, you win. Let's get on with it, though, so that we can go."

"May I remind you that I tried to convince you to stay home to begin with?"

She shushed him and they re-entered the ballroom, Snape in the lead and she right on his heels. He was gratified to see that no one had paid much attention to their absence nor had noticed their return. He was quite tired of small talk for one night. They made it nearly halfway across the chamber before anyone stopped them.

It was one of the older witches from the Potions Patent Committee that touched Severus' arm as he passed. His progression halted mid-stride, causing his distracted apprentice to ungracefully collide with the back of him. The girl let out a muffled, agitated grunt that made him internally grin.

"Master Snape!" the silver-haired woman exclaimed loudly to be heard over the din. She was rather stately-looking in her tasteful emerald green robes. Her glasses, a garish shade of pink, brought a touch of whimsy to an otherwise severe appearance and her smile was genuine. "I was hoping to catch you before you left for the evening."

"Hester," Severus greeted cordially, his business persona sliding effortlessly into place. "It is good to see you again. I hope you are well."

Hermione wasn't in the right frame of mind to exchange pleasantries and she couldn't fake interest as effortlessly as the former Death Eater. She was still a bit fuzzy-headed and her thighs were slowly gluing themselves together. She could not just stand here.

As soon as there was a lull in the conversation, she touched the wizard's arm to draw his attention to her. "I'm going to find Ginny and make sure that she'll be ready to go soon, if that's okay, _sir_." Her use of the honorific was twofold. It expressed respect for his position as her mentor in front of current company but it was also a cheeky reminder of their unfinished business.

With a glint in his eye that only she could recognize, he gave his consent and Hermione nodded politely to the board member before excusing herself and slipping away. Wading through the crowd, she spotted Draco's platinum blond head in the corner and set her course in his direction. Where Malfoy was, so would Ginny be. It wasn't the first time that she found herself thankful for the boy's distinctive hair color.

She managed to cross the room without getting waylaid or her anxiety rising, an impressive feat, but was still relieved when she reached the group of familiar young people. Draco, Ginny, and Blaise had congregated in the corner and seemed to be passing around a bottle of champagne. Hermione rolled her eyes at their behavior. "Hey guys."

"Where have you been, Granger?" Draco asked, holding out the bottle to the Gryffindor. "I've been looking for Severus to discuss that project with him."

She waved away the offering, having no interest in swapping backwash with this motley crew. "We, uh, stepped out on the balcony for some fresh air." She knew that her cheeks were pink-tinged but could do nothing about it.

The blond's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Fresh air, huh? I thought the euphemism was 'business to attend to'.

The increase of heat on her face answered the boy's question for her. He smirked smugly and Zabini chuckled. She scowled at the pair of them. "Anyway. Severus wanted me to find Ginny because it will be time to go back to Hogwarts soon." She looked at the redhead pointedly.

The younger witch pouted. "Don't remind me."

"So where is my godfather?" Draco interrupted, putting his arm around his girlfriend's shoulders to comfort her. He wasn't thrilled about her having to leave either.

"Talking with one of the witches from the Ministry," Hermione replied, pointing over her shoulder in the older man's general direction.

Draco glanced where she pointed then back at his former classmate. He knew better than to pester the Slytherin when he was 'talking shop'. "Well, let's go dance till he's finished." He turned and kissed Ginny on the temple. "You wanna dance with Zabini, love, while I show Granger how it's done?"

The youngest Weasley rolled her eyes but agreed nonetheless and the foursome strode over to the dance floor just as another tango started up. They paired off and began to move with the music. It was quite obvious that neither Blaise nor Ginny had the slightest clue how to tango. Unsurprisingly, Draco did. Hermione grinned at his obvious skill and followed his lead.

"My mother insisted on formal dance lessons when I was younger," he mentioned, noticing her pleased expression. "Even though she didn't let me attend many balls."

"It shows," she complimented, remembering that particular part of the boy's history from her first weekend at the manor. "I danced with Lucius earlier and he was excellent as well."

He nodded and glided them across the polished floor, clasped hands extended out. "So did you and Severus shag out on the balcony? Do I need to send Popkins out there to sanitize the area?"

She scrunched up her nose at his oily grin and extreme lack of tact. It wasn't really surprising. His pure-blood upbringing insured a certain level of decorum most of the time but that had never kept him from asking her whatever the hell he felt like. Nosy sod. "No, we didn't."

His blond eyebrow rose almost imperceptibly, his expression clearly skeptical. "And yet something happened."

It was a statement, not a question, but she nodded anyway. "Yes."

Draco smirked but didn't push the girl any further, instead leading her through a perfect tango routine. He didn't necessarily want the sordid details of his godfather's love life. He just enjoyed giving the Gryffindor a hard time.

And speaking of the devil himself, the older wizard materialized out of thin air beside them just as the song was winding to an end. He was scowling down at the pair of them but there was no malice in the expression. "Go find _your_ witch, Draco. This one is spoken for."

Malfoy rolled his eyes, finished the tango off properly, and then kissed the witch's hand graciously like he had always been taught. Snape did not scare him, especially now that he had no control over his grades.

"We have time for one more dance," the professor announced, looking pointedly at his godson. He took Hermione by the hand. "Better make it count."

"I wanted to speak with you before you leave, remember?" the blond asked a tad petulantly.

Severus spun his petite witch into his arms, his mind already gloriously preoccupied. The corner of his mouth lifted when she smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling. "Go dance with Miss Weasley, Draco," he said distractedly. "She is looking like a lost puppy. Tomorrow is Sunday; you can come and visit at the school. We will sit and discuss whatever it is that you need to discuss over lunch."

From somewhere behind her, Hermione heard Ginny squeak in approval of such a plan but she had already checked out of the scene surrounding her, focusing solely on the pair of black orbs staring down at her. She didn't think that she would ever get used to the amount of intensity that he could funnel into one gaze.

He surprised her by pulling her close to his chest and beginning to sway side to side, slowly revolving on the spot. She was reminded of the Yule Ball back in her fourth year. This was how Viktor had danced to every slow song played, having never been given formal lessons. Severus, on the other hand, had benefited from training of the highest quality and though he didn't do it often, he was a magnificent dancer. In comparison to his usual prodigious skill, his moves now were both crude and incredibly intimate, inciting the stomach-dwelling butterflies once again. The glint in his dark eyes told her that that was precisely his intention.

Hermione let out a slow, controlled sigh to release some of the tension and drug her gaze away to look around them, half-wondering if their closeness was causing a spectacle. Draco and Ginny were dancing on their left, pressed so tightly together that it was a good thing that the redhead was taking a contraceptive potion regularly. Next to them Blaise was dancing a bit more decorously with a slightly older witch that she didn't recognize — a fan, no doubt. Neither pair was paying them the slightest bit of attention.

As she turned look in the opposite direction, Lucius and Addy sashayed their way into the vacant spot beside them. The two made such an attractive couple that it was nearly distracting. It was somewhat amusing that both Malfoy men had ended up with redheads.

"Hello again, my dear," Lucius called, beaming at the Muggle-born over his date's shoulder. "Have you been enjoying yourself?"

Hermione ignored the derisive noise that issued from the vicinity of her dance partner's Adam's apple and returned the blond's smile. "It's been a lovely evening and a wonderful party. I'm only disappointed that it's nearly time for us to leave."

"Has it gotten that late already?" he asked, visibly surprised. "I guess time really does flies when you're having fun." He glanced appreciatively at Adelaide and then back at the younger witch. "Why don't you stay the night? There's more than enough room."

"We cannot," Severus said before the girl had a chance to reply. He slid his hand up her back and ghosted his fingers across the exposed skin at the nape of her neck. "Miss Weasley has to be returned to the castle by midnight."

The pure-blood's brow furrowed slightly. "Dumbledore's orders?"

The Potion Master nodded. "It was his only stipulation to her accompanying us this evening. She's still a ward of the school."

"So let Draco escort her back," Lucius suggested, eyeing his son, whose mouth was currently plastered to that of his paramour's. "I'm sure they'd both be thrilled and then you and Hermione could stay the night."

"Her safe return is my responsibility," Snape countered. He glanced at his godson and glowered in distaste. "If I were to allow those two to go alone, Merlin only knows if they'd be able to pry themselves apart long enough to actually get there without Splinching."

Hermione snickered, agreeing with that assessment.

"You're reaching for excuses, old man, and you know it." The unflattering adage elicited the sneer that he knew it would and Malfoy smirked. "You know as well as I that Draco wouldn't do anything to jeopardize that girl's education, even if that means having to say goodbye for the time being."

"You are five and a half years _older_ than me, Lucius," Snape hissed, ignoring the main point of the blond's speech entirely. It was the second time that evening that he had been referred to as old.

"Beauty trumps age, as I've told you repeatedly."

Hermione and Addy exchanged an amused and slightly exasperated glance. Because the older witch hadn't been around them very much, Hermione didn't know if she realized yet that this type of snarky back and forth argument was normal behavior for them — it had certainly caught her off-guard in the beginning. Now it was one of the reasons that she loved visiting with Lucius.

"If you stay," the pure-blood continued, "we can carry on with the celebration. I plan to make a weekend of it and you two should be here to help me."

The Gryffindor looked up at Severus questioningly. She'd be perfectly happy to stay over. They hadn't spent the night at Malfoy Manor since they had administered the potion very nearly a year ago. She would love to recreate the events of that evening, improve upon those memories, and act out what could have happened had the professor not been so plagued by his conscience. She had fantasized about that very opportunity many times. She grinned up at him, a hint of deviancy in her chocolate eyes.

He peered down at the young witch, not needing to slip into her mind to read her thoughts. He knew her so well that he knew exactly what she was thinking. After their tête-à-tête on the balcony, he knew that her beautifully-overfed brain was turning every scenario into an erotic one and that she'd jump at the chance to revisit the Malfoy guest wing with him.

As much as he'd enjoy recreating her memories, however, he had other plans tonight — plans that he had formulated the moment that she had told him that she was attending the ball sans undergarments. He wasn't going to deviate from those plans for anyone. He may be stubborn but that stubbornness typically paid off in the end. It certainly had with the girl in question.

His dark eyes glinted at her — the former headache that had become the single brightest point of light in his world, the woman that he intended to be bonded to one day, that he wanted to grow old with, even though he would reach that milestone far earlier than she would. Like the fictional characters that she had once compared them to, he loved her beyond all reason. She had become his salvation and the sole reason that he was thankful to have survived the war and the hardships of his life before her. His lips twitched as his once cold heart filled to bursting.

Severus turned to look at his expectant comrade and shook his head resolutely. "We will not be staying," he answered with a tone of finality and then grinned at the little Gryffindor like a Kneazle that got into the cream. "Miss Granger has detention tonight."

 ** _Finite Incantatem_**

* * *

A/N: I hope that the ending of this story was satisfactory. I wanted this chapter to serve as both a last chapter and an epilogue of sorts, wrapping up all the loose ends. I know that Alice and Frank weren't cured, but I felt like that process would be more complex than would adequately fit into this story. Perhaps a sequel will come out it — who knows. I also really wanted the story to end as it began, with detention.

If you've read this story all the way through, thank you for your interest and time! Please review. I'd love to hear from you.

I have scads of plot bunnies for further HG/SS stories that I hope to wrestle into submission. My next story is already in the works. It's entitled Rita Skeeter's Revenge and I hope to start posting it soon. If you enjoy my writing and/or are intrigued to see what nonsense I can come up with, please follow me.


End file.
